Conquering the Seas
by Blood Dark Sun
Summary: Engmano AU. Captain Arthur Kirkland has finally defeated his pirate nemesis Fernandez and inherited his terrified cabin boy. Vague references are made to past abuses; there are character deaths. Rated for language and violence.
1. Revenge

_Everyone in this is an OC except Arthur (England), Lovino (Romano), Antonio (Spain) and Bonnefoy (France)._

_..._

**Revenge.**

Arthur Kirkland, captain of the Resolute, stood grinning evilly in the harsh sunlight off the North American coast, blond hair whipping wildly in the breeze. On the deck of his ship, his men held, tied up and at gunpoint, twelve men belonging to the crew of the nefarious Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, scourge of the seas. Kirkland himself trained his gun on the bound Fernandez, as two of his crew tied a cannonball into a canvas bag that would accelerate the Spaniard's descent to the bottom of the sea. Kirkland had been chasing the man for almost nine years, and today, _finally_, revenge_._

Fernandez held himself proudly as he was manhandled onto the plank, as though, despite all evidence to the contrary, he thought he could get out of this. "Arthur, mi amigo, you surely cannot be serious?" He turned to face Kirkland. The two crewmen lashed the cannonball to his ankles; the Spaniard, surprisingly, did not struggle. "Remember how we used to be?" His voice was a seductive purr, audible to every man on deck.

"Hark at you," Kirkland spat. "Of course I remember. Why the hell do you think I'm doing this?" He took careful aim and shot Fernandez in the groin. To give him credit, the Spaniard did not cry out, but stumbled to his knees amidst the welter of blood and flesh. He gave Kirkland an amazed look, still without speaking, and collapsed further. Fernandez finally fell off the plank without speaking another word, the cannonball plunging his body swiftly into the depths.

Most of the crew from the Spanish ship had gasped at the sound – the target – of the shot, but the crew of the Resolute remained grim and focused. Only a few eyes held other expressions: Kirkland's, bright green, smirking in triumph, almost dazed; two of his crew members, gleeful; and Fernandez's cabin boy, whose amber eyes looked at Captain Kirkland with new, astonished, reverence.

None of the others from the Spanish ship moved. Most of them knew why they were being treated this way, and with the death of their captain, and the English captain's reputation, knew that they stood no chance of escaping. They were outnumbered two to one, as well. Faces grew somber as the crew of the Resolute completed the mission: one by one the Spaniard's crew members were marched onto the plank and shot unceremoniously before their still-warm bodies were shoved into the water.

At the end of an hour, only four of Fernandez's men remained. These, not yet soaked in the sins that had stained their erstwhile superiors, were not on The List, and the plan was to sail them back to England and turn them out.

"Right, you fellows know what to do; let's get these new men settled and get under way." A skeleton crew had been dispatched to the Spanish ship and would sail her back to England as spoils for the Crown. Sailors took three of Fernandez's men with them below decks. Kirkland gestured to the fidgeting cabin boy. "You, come with me."

The cabin boy's heart sank. It seemed he'd merely traded one captor for another. Young, fearful and exhausted, he considered that at this point he had no choice, and followed Kirkland to the captain's cabin with his head bowed.

…

As his eyes grew accustomed to the cabin's dimmer interior, the boy looked at Kirkland with trepidation, but did not speak. He could feel the familiar prickling behind his eyes, and blinked a few times to stop tears from falling.

"Do you resent me for killing your captain?"

Well, that was abrupt. The slim, dark-haired boy – approaching manhood – looked startled. "N-no," he answered. "He was a b-bastard, he deserved to die." He sniffed. He _would not _cry.

The captain went to the small porthole and looked out before continuing in this same curt voice. "Did – did he hurt you?"

The cabin boy was shocked into admission. How did he know? "Y-yes. Well, he – not often, but yes." He paused to collect his thoughts, to wipe away the tears that formed in his eyes..._dammit_. "He – he used to have a special friend, an albino man…but…there was a skirmish last month with some of your English pirates, and the – the albino was killed. A-after that, Fernandez started drinking more, and that's when he, when he started…" His voice trailed off. Why was he telling the Englishman these things? He clenched his hands into fists at his sides.

But, "I understand," Kirkland interrupted in a sympathetic tone of voice. "Don't feel you need to say any more. He had a reputation for that sort of thing." The captain paused a few moments before turning to face the young man. "Many of my crew members have suffered similar abuses – some at the hands of Fernandez and his crew, others elsewhere - not always what you suffered, but similar. This is why we shot so many of his men – each of them was personally known to us, had committed an unforgivable offense against humanity, against one of us, at some point in their lives. My men _are not_ like that. Please accept my assurances that you _will_ be safe here."

The brunet simply nodded, sniffling again.

"What is your name?"

"L-Lovino Vargas."

"Well, Lovino Vargas, my name is Arthur Kirkland." Lovino nodded and gingerly shook the hand the captain extended. "I am going to offer you the cabin boy's bunk, because it is empty at this time, and because no one on this ship would enter my cabin unasked. It should be a secure place for you. It's a long journey back to England, and we want you – all four of you – to be at ease."

"Wh-why did you offer _me_ this, and not one of the others?" He was still understandably concerned about Kirkland's motives.

"You were his cabin boy," Kirkland explained tersely, looking away. Well, that made sense, to put a cabin boy in the cabin boy's bunk. Lovino felt like an idiot for asking.

"You are the youngest of the four remaining, right? How old are you?" the captain continued.

"I know I look young. I'm really seventeen."

"Seventeen is still quite young."

Lovino found this interesting, because he was willing to bet Captain Kirkland wasn't even thirty years old yet. "I – I know… "

"Never mind. It's not important. I may ask you to handle some small cabin boy duties, fetching things, maybe cleaning, or, if I'm busy, getting my dinner, but otherwise you may do as you please, as long as you don't interfere with the running of my ship. Is there anything you think you will need? One of my men put your bag in here earlier." Kirkland gestured to the cabin boy's bunk.

"Thank you," Lovino choked out, pleased with himself for not faltering. "I'd like to rest for a while. It's been a very stressful day."

"Certainly. I'll be up on deck for the next few hours. Please relax. We can talk later." Kirkland left the room.

For a few moments Lovino stood in the center of the cabin, breathing deeply, feeling the anxiety in his heart just barely beginning to loosen. Of course, he couldn't accept Kirkland's comments at face value; the man might simply be trying to get him to lower his guard. But he'd shot Fernandez, hadn't he? That was a good sign.

At this point, Lovino considered, he had little choice; he'd take the respite that was given, for as long as he could. He sank onto the narrow bunk and took a deep breath. Maybe, just maybe, things would be all right.

…

That night Kirkland asked him to fetch some dinner from the galley for them both. Lovino found his way to the galley and took the plates that the cook had provided. The men eating nearby nodded to him pleasantly as he left. _All these men were hurt by men like Fernandez,_ he realized. He found himself studying the face of each man he passed, wondering for the first time ever how mankind in general could be so brutal, wondering how Kirkland had managed to gather all these men – most of them looking significantly older than the captain – under his aegis.

"Here's dinner, sir." Lovino opened the cabin door and placed the plates on the small table.

"Thank you. Please sit. Is there anything you'd like to talk about? Or ask me about the ship…about the crew?" The captain's voice was kind to his young guest, inviting further conversation.

"Well, I – you English pirates have quite a fearsome reputation, and yet, everyone on this ship seems very – I don't know – " He shrugged.

"We're _not_ pirates, Lovino. We're chartered by the Crown to help _eradicate_ pirates."

The cabin boy's eyebrows went up. "_Not_ pirates?"

"You'll note we're taking Fernandez's ship back to England, not keeping it. If we were pirates, we would have sailed it to Barbados and sold it. It's legitimate spoils of war."

Lovino had not even considered such a thing possible. "What happens after that?"

"We'll go out looking for others. That inept frog Bonnefoy, for one. Wherever the king directs us to go, we, and five other ships, will go. The Crown pays our expenses and demands our loyalty. We provide it. I'm just happy that my ship was the one to catch that bastard today."

Lovino failed to recognize this conversational opening. "I – I'm sorry, I hadn't realized – I thought you were pirates like, like they were," he said instead. He looked down at his hands rather than face what would surely be Kirkland's wrath at his coarse assumption.

"I will never be like they were," the captain vowed, simply.

…

The cabin boy went to bed with fear that night. Despite Kirkland's reassurances, he couldn't quite believe the man was as sincere as he appeared. Lovino had only served aboard one ship, but the men on that ship had been so distasteful to him that he automatically tarred all sailors with the same brush.

And yet Kirkland merely entered the cabin with a lantern, greeted him, stripped off his jacket, boots and shirt, and fell into his own bunk before extinguishing the light. Lovino lay awake in the dark for quite some time before allowing himself to relax enough to sleep.

…

He had passed the last few days in a state of near-constant worry and tension, but part of his mind was actually beginning to believe that things would work out somehow. The crew members became jovial with him and the others from Fernandez's crew, just as they were with each other. Captain Kirkland had been pleasantly polite, almost distant, not showing any emotion, not trying anything unsavory. Only one thing worried the cabin boy: this was the attitude of Fernandez's ship's purser, who was vitriolic about Kirkland's actions and kept trying to whip the remains of Fernandez's crew into mutiny. Lovino spent most of his time avoiding this young man. As far as he could tell, the other two men were not interested in listening either; having gotten away with their lives, they were in no mood to risk them against Kirkland's temper. Not for the first time the cabin boy found himself wondering what relationship Fernandez had been to Kirkland. "Remember how we used to be?" the Spaniard had asked. Lovino wondered whether he'd ever find out. Wondered whether he really wanted to know, after all.

That evening, as he brought the captain a plate of biscuits and gravy, he decided to offer some information to the authoritative blond, information in exchange for the safety he'd been provided.

"Sir, there's something you should probably be made aware of." He put the plate on the small table and stepped back.

"No need to call me sir," Kirkland answered absently. He'd been working in his ship's logbook and set the book and pen aside. "What's the problem? Here, sit." He gestured to the seat opposite him. Lovino sat.

"It's Myers. He keeps trying to incite us to mutiny."

"'Us'?"

"The four of us from – from Fernandez's ship. He thinks it's disgraceful, the way you shot them all, and that we should mutiny."

Kirkland actually laughed. "A purser, a cabin boy, and two young sailors, mutiny? Does he think the four of you could handle the ship sufficiently to get back to Spain? Surely he doesn't think he can turn my crew against me. Not when they participated with such relish."

Lovino considered this. "I don't think he actually thought that far ahead." Kirkland certainly did seem to see the big picture. Lovino hadn't thought that far ahead either. "And I, I wouldn't have gone along with it anyway." He blushed, but the captain was not looking at him.

"Well, thank you for telling me. Shared information is never wasted. I'll look into it." He offered the boy his plate. "Did you eat yet? Please have something, or go get yourself a plate, if you're hungry."

"N-no, thank you, I already ate." The captain was a surprisingly considerate man, as well. Of course, Lovino's only experience on a ship had been with Fernandez, so…perhaps it was not so surprising after all.

"Very well. I've got to finish this entry and then I'm going to bed. Good night."

"Good night, sir." Lovino moved to his bunk.

"I told you not to call me sir," Kirkland answered gruffly, already back in the logbook.

"Well, then? What should I call you? Captain?"

"Argh." The captain put his head in his hands. "All right, 'sir,' 'captain,' whatever. Whatever makes you comfortable."

"Yes, sir, captain, sir," the cabin boy replied cheekily, and was rewarded with a small, wry smile of genuine amusement. "Good night."

…

For the next few days Lovino attentively watched both the ex-purser and the captain to see whether anything had come to a head, but everything appeared as normal. He continued to avoid Myers, and that man didn't seem to notice anything unusual. Kirkland didn't seem concerned. Lovino was beginning to believe that nothing could ruffle the captain's composure. A reassuring thought, indeed, to be under his protection, if protection it would continue to be.

…

That evening before bed, Kirkland asked him to sit at the table for a few moments. "There's something I need to discuss with you," he began. Lovino simply sat waiting politely. "In a few days we'll reach Southampton. I will be giving you a small wage for your help on this voyage, and can direct you to a hotel in the city. From there you can make your way to Spain, or wherever else you please."

The boy's politeness changed to shock and panic as the blood drained from his face. "L-leave me in a foreign country? Nn – but, I, I don't want to do that, I…" He clenched his fists and shoved them into his lap.

"It's what the other men from your crew will be doing," Kirkland pointed out, kindly.

"B-but, I don't know anyone in England…and they - I, I – not them – that…no…" He put his head in his hands, elbows on the table; dammit, he did not want to start crying in front of Captain Kirkland! Why couldn't he get a simple sentence out properly? "I don't want to leave the ship," he finally blurted out, looking up. "I don't want to go to Spain anyway, and I – I feel s-safer here. Can't I stay here? I'll keep working for you! You d-don't have to pay me!" His voice was eager and tearful. He rubbed his eyes again. And again.

Kirkland appeared to consider this. "You'd stay on as a cabin boy? Is that really what you want to do?"

"A cabin boy or whatever you need, cleaning, mending ropes? I can learn other things. _Please_, sir, don't put me ashore in England."

"You're not in trouble somewhere, are you? On the run from a crime, something like that?" The captain scowled, one eyebrow raised.

"N-no. It's just – I – it's been so, so - " He started crying in earnest, and hid his face in his hands. "Please…"

Kirkland waited a moment and then reached across the small table to lay a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Listen, Lovino, please don't worry yourself. If you really want to stay on the ship as part of my crew, then you're welcome to do so. Like I said before, I have no cabin boy; have never quite been able to accustom myself to the idea. But you've been doing just fine in that job, and I have to admit it's made my work a little bit easier. We can certainly afford to feed the extra mouth. So yes, if you want to stay, if you feel safer here, that's fine. You can learn other things about sailing if you like, too. I have to admit, it's…nice…to have you around." He took his hand off Lovino's shoulder.

That last comment was almost enough to frighten Lovino back into his worries, but he reflected that the captain had not tried anything yet, and had in fact been trying to boot him off the ship, so…he was probably safe. _Probably. _He nodded. "Thank you. I'll do my very best, sir." He dried his eyes again and looked up.

Kirkland actually smiled at him – a relaxed smile that reached his eyes, rare and pleasant. "I'm sure you will. Now let's get some sleep, all right? Good night."

Lovino wiped his eyes one more time and smiled bravely at him. "Good night, captain. And thank you."

Kirkland just nodded at him as he turned to extinguish the lantern.

…

The next few days, before they reached England, were relatively uneventful. Lovino spent most of his time on the sunny deck, watching the interaction between the intriguing captain and his crew. The men joked and talked together, and treated Kirkland with respect and friendship, but none of them seemed particularly close to him, not even his trusted first mate Jock, a gigantic Scotsman. The cabin boy had the feeling that Kirkland held himself aloof from friendship in order to command more effectively, which made sense, but he couldn't help thinking things must be very lonely for the young commander. This was probably also why Kirkland had been holding himself apart from Lovino, and might be why he had admitted that their nascent acquaintance pleased him. Lovino, still relieved at not having to leave the safety of the ship, decided to make an extra effort to make his protector's life a little easier. They were both apart from the others – Lovino by virtue of his youth and by being the only one of Fernandez's men to stay aboard – and perhaps he could make the captain's life seem a little less austere.

"Captain?" he asked hesitantly that night, as Kirkland sat down to write his entries in the logbook.

"Mm, what is it, Lovino?" was the absent-minded response.

"Will it be all right if I s-stay on the ship while we're in port? I, I really don't like the idea of wandering around a strange city, on my own." He twisted his fingers together nervously, not looking at the captain.

Kirkland looked up at this. After considering Lovino for a minute, he said, "_That's_ how the bastard got you, is it?" The expression on his face turned stony.

"How – how did you know?" Dammit, here came the tears again.

"Didn't _know_. Took a guess, based on what I know about him, and what you just told me. Yes, it's fine. I – wasn't planning to leave the ship anyway. The rest of the crew will have a few days of shore leave, but if you want to relax on board, that's perfectly fine. You would undoubtedly be safer staying here."

"Th-thank you. If there's anything you need me to do – cleaning, or, or mending, I guess, I could try to get it done while we're docked."

"I'll see if there's anything that needs to be done. Get some rest now, we should be arriving in port tomorrow and I could use your help handing out the pay packets."

Lovino nodded. "Good night, sir."

"Good night."

…

When the crew disembarked the next day, Lovino was the focus of jeers from the other members of Fernandez's crew. He could see that they thought he was weak, dependent on the captain; Myers in particular made a few acid comments about submissive men, but then Kirkland appeared and the comments quickly stopped. When the last crewman had departed for the city, leaving only himself and the captain aboard the ship, Lovino once again began to worry about his own safety. To keep anxiety at bay, he began to speak with Kirkland, who was leaning on the rail, looking wistfully out over the water towards the Atlantic.

"Are you worried about Myers and the others?" he asked. "It seems like he might bear you enough ill will to try some kind of, of revenge tactic."

"I'm not worried," came the response. "Those men we killed were all on the proscribed list; Jock is going to London to deliver the information. Myers may try to stir up trouble, but I'm protected by the law."

"What if he goes outside the law?" This was what had been worrying Lovino the most. "What if he goes to one of your enemies with the information?"

"The only personal enemy I have left is that idiot Bonnefoy, who wouldn't have the brains to do anything with the information even if he had it. I'm not worried, so you shouldn't worry. You're supposed to be relaxing, not increasing your anxiety." He gave the cabin boy a short smile and then turned his attention back to the sea.

After a few minutes, Lovino asked, "Have you been a sailor all your life?" He genuinely wanted to know the answer to this one.

The captain cut his eyes to him. "I don't want to talk about that," he said shortly. This silenced the boy for a very long while, and they merely stood, each lost in thought, watching the sun until it set.

"I'm going to update my logbook and then go to bed. Do you want to stay on deck? Feel free."

"N-no, thank you, I'll come below. Do you need anything?" He held his breath.

"I should be fine. Just relax or go to bed, whatever you want. I have some books in the cabin if you like to read." The two made their way back to the captain's cabin.

Eventually the logbook was updated and the two prepared for sleep. After Kirkland put the lantern out, Lovino asked him, "Why was Jock going to London? Isn't that a job for the captain of the ship?"

There was an uncomfortable pause before Kirkland responded. "I was worried about leaving…the ship…alone and unprotected. Jock can handle it," he added, more strongly. "Besides, he's got family there."

"Do you – where is your family?" If it hadn't been dark in the cabin, Lovino would never have found the courage to ask these questions. He waited for Kirkland's response, afraid he'd offended him.

"No family left," the captain finally said, in a much more despondent voice than Lovino would have imagined. "I'm all alone in the world."

The cabin boy nodded, although he realized the other couldn't see this. "Me too," he offered, after a pause.

There were a few more moments of silence, and then Kirkland sighed. "Good night, Lovino."

"Good night, captain."


	2. Keep Your Friends Close

**Keep Your Friends Close.**

About three months had passed since the Resolute had left Southampton. Lovino was still occupying the role, and the bunk, of cabin boy, but had been putting a great deal of effort into learning more about ships and their workings. The captain had continued his generically pleasant demeanor towards him, and Lovino's attitude had therefore relaxed immeasurably. The rest of the crew was impressed with the young man's drive to learn. He'd made a few friends among the men, and was feeling much more confident in himself. He still kept his thoughts to himself most of the time, however.

The ship had spent four weeks in the Atlantic on its regular mission, but had not encountered one single vessel – pirate or merchant, private or Crown – during that entire time. This had begun to spook the crew, so Captain Kirkland had ordered the ship back to Southampton and gone to London to discuss this with the head of the Royal Navy. He'd invited the boy to join him on the jourmey, but Lovino, trying to take responsibility for himself, to be less dependent on the captain, had opted to remain on board ship.

During the captain's time away, Lovino had found himself surprisingly at peace. He'd expected to return to anxiety and fear, but perhaps the security of the ship and crew was beginning to settle into him. Even being alone in the captain's cabin at night didn't worry him. He was safe there.

Now they were en route to India on a mission from the King, escorting a Church of England clergyman and his young wife to a new life in the exotic country. Passing Portugal, the light was different, the sights as well. Each time they stopped in a new locale, some of the crew went exploring, and Lovino frequently took the opportunity to join them. (By accident or the captain's design, the ship had avoided docking anywhere in Spain, which relieved the young man.) He was still wary of wandering around unfamiliar areas on his own, but in company with crew members he knew he'd be safe.

Today was a beautiful day. They'd picked up a ship's cat somewhere along the way, and she sat by the cabin boy's feet as he mended sails on the deck in the brilliant southern light. He and Captain Kirkland hadn't quite seen eye to eye about the cat, but when the cook had praised her for keeping mice out of the food supplies, the captain had finally relented. She slept on Lovino's bunk, and this made him happy.

"Good afternoon," the clergyman's wife, a Mrs. Daulton, offered to Lovino, approaching from the long deck. "You're enjoying the sunshine?"

"It's a bit bright," he laughed, "but at least I can see what I'm doing. Trying to mend sails on an overcast day is nearly impossible."

The pretty young lady dimpled at him. "May I join you?" She motioned towards the pile of finished work at his side.

"I don't mind, but you might wrinkle your lovely dress."

"It _is_ a lovely dress, isn't it? My husband bought it for me, for our journey." She sat daintily on the pile of sails. "I never had much in the way of lovely things as a child. Being with Theodore is fortuitous in many ways."

Lovino smiled. "It must be nice to find someone to love," he offered politely.

"You don't have a young lady?" Mrs. Daulton's voice was coy.

He laughed. "They're in short supply around here!"

"I meant, in port somewhere, perhaps back in England?"

"No. This ship is my life," and when he spoke those words he realized they were true now.

She nodded. "Your Captain Kirkland is a very striking man."

This apparent non sequitur made Lovino blush, although she wasn't looking at him. "In – in what way?" he asked. He hoped she wasn't getting a fixation on the captain!

"He's so young, and yet he commands the ship so well. We hear rumors in England, you know."

"Rumors of what?" Lovino was genuinely confused by this.

"Is he really so bloodthirsty?" she leaned over to whisper with a frisson of excitement in her voice.

"Bloodthirsty?" he blurted out in response. "He's the most gentle man I've ever met." The cabin boy blushed again, looking away from her.

"We hear he kills a lot of pirates!"

"That's nonsense." He thought about the best way to phrase this. "Since I joined his crew, I've not seen him kill a single person."

Mrs. Daulton was thoughtful. "And yet he's got such a fierce reputation."

Lovino was beginning to panic. He really didn't want to be discussing the captain with this lady, or, in fact, with anyone. Before the conversation could continue, Kirkland himself rounded the corner and stopped short when he saw the two chatting in the corner. He then strode forward and extended his hand to Mrs. Daulton.

"Good afternoon, madam," he said, raising her off the pile of mended sails. "I trust you're enjoying your day?"

"Of course," she trilled, drawing her hand from his. "We have been having a delightful chat."

Kirkland appeared to notice Lovino for the first time. "Oh, there you are. I need you to go get the charts for this sector out of the map case in my cabin. We're coming up on a treacherous area and I have to make sure we sail well clear of the currents. You can leave the sails for now."

Lovino jumped up with relief, now that he could get away from the lady's probing conversation. "Yes, sir. Do you want me to bring the charts up, or will you be coming down to look at them?"

"There are too many charts to comfortably work with, out here. Lay them out on my work table and when I've escorted Mrs. Daulton to her husband, I'll join you there." Lovino nodded and ran off with his needle and thread, the cat at his heels.

"Please don't feel you need to escort me to Theodore. I know you're a busy man."

"If I can't spare the time for basic chivalry, madam, then things are indeed bleak," he responded gallantly. "I believe Mr. Daulton is having coffee." He offered her his arm, speaking of the warm southern weather as they walked off.

...

"Did you want me to wait here while you look at the charts?"

"I don't really need to look at the charts." Kirkland scrubbed his face with his hand. "I wanted to talk to you about something." Lovino looked a bit taken aback, but the captain pressed on. "You…you are a young and… handsome man, Lovino. And Mrs. Daulton is young and pretty, and she's newly-married to a man who is neither. I needed to warn you now, while the journey is still young…perhaps you don't have much experience with this, but if you incur Daulton's jealousy, there could be trouble."

"I'm not interested in flirting with the lady," was the simple reply.

"I know you're too honorable for that. Most of the crew probably realizes that as well, by now. But neither of the Daultons knows you well enough to believe it. If he called you out over that, there might not be anything I could do to save you." Kirkland turned his head to look out of the porthole, then back to the young man abruptly.

"If he called me out? Would I really be in danger from him? He's just a priest, right?" Lovino now sounded slightly confused. "I know I'm no swordsman, but—"

"No. Mr. Daulton is posing as a priest, but two of my men have seen him before. He's an auditor for the Royal Navy…a sort of spy, sent here to check up on me and my crew, to make sure we're not misusing Crown funds, mistreating people, that sort of thing. My guess is that when we finally reach India, he'll make some excuse for them to come back to England with us."

The cabin boy's jaw dropped.

"What's the matter?" Kirkland asked.

"She, she was asking me all kinds of questions about you." He put his hand over his mouth, blushing, while he tried to recall what they'd said, exactly. "She asked if you were as bloodthirsty as your reputation."

Kirkland raised his eyebrows in astonishment. "Do I have a bloodthirsty reputation? How surprising. What did you tell her?"

"I – I told her you were the most gentle man I'd ever met." He looked away. Kirkland got a very tender expression on his face, but Lovino missed it.

"What else did she ask you?"

"How many men you'd killed? Something like that." He turned back to face Kirkland.

"Ah." The captain put his hands on his hips, now worried. "And just how did you answer that one?"

Lovino let a little smirk of pride show on his face. "I prevaricated a little. I told her that since I'd joined the crew, I hadn't seen you kill a single person."

"Nicely done. And completely true, too." Kirkland grinned in appreciation. "What else?"

"I don't remember her asking anything else. You showed up and sent me away. Thanks." The relief was evident on the young face.

"Good, I'm glad you got away before things got too difficult. At any rate, although I wouldn't want you to be impolite or cold to the lady, please don't get too intimate with her. I'd suggest trying to keep a third party with you when she approaches you for conversation, if possible. If you can't manage to get away from her or get someone else to join you, walk around the ship with her. Let everyone see that you're out in the open, walking around, not hiding in the corner together. All right?"

"Yes, sir."

"All right, then, I just wanted to make sure you understood that. Do you want to go back on deck?"

"I – I think I'd rather stay here for the rest of the evening. I'm a little worried that I might act, I don't know, unusual around her, and make her suspicious." Lovino looked at the captain. "So we really have to pretend, all the way to India, that he's a clergyman? And then maybe all the way back? That's going to take _months_!"

"More than a year, if they turn around and come back with us," Kirkland agreed. "Do you think you can handle it? Look on it as a challenge."

"Uh. Well, I can certainly try."

"Let me know if you're having any difficulties. Between us we can come up with some kind of a plan." The captain rolled up the charts and began to re-file them in the map cabinet. "Why don't you run along and fetch us some dinner? I wouldn't mind a quiet evening either."

"Yes, sir." Lovino smiled and left the cabin.

…

After dinner Kirkland updated his logbook earlier than usual and sat back on his bunk to read. The cat came to him, which was unusual. Normally if Lovino was in the room, the cat went straight to him. The captain absently petted the cat while reading; his cabin boy was already in bed.

After a few minutes the cat demanded more insistent attention, so Kirkland set his book aside and spent some time with her. "You're a demanding one, kitten," he said to her. She climbed on his lap and he rubbed his nose to hers. Lovino was charmed by this, but tried not to stare; who would ever think that the "bloodthirsty" Captain Kirkland could let go of his habitual reserve this way? The young man tilted his head so that his bangs obscured his eyes and continued watching the captain caress the cat. That was a nice image to fall asleep with.

Before Lovino managed to fall asleep, Kirkland extinguished the lantern and prepared for bed. "Good night, Lovino."

"'Night, captain." The cat jumped down and came to Lovino's bunk, snuggling up against his shoulder. "Good night, little one," he said to her, and rubbed his nose to hers.

...

_A "fixation" was the old-fashioned word for a crush._


	3. Keep Your Enemies Closer

_I'm having a lot of fun writing this, but although it's an AU, I'm dismayed by how un-Arthur-like the captain is turning out. I think I've read too many pirate romance novels, where the ship's captain has a noble heart despite being bloodthirsty, and this is coloring my work. But it seems too late in the game to start making him more tsundere. Should I keep writing him this way, or abandon the story? I only have 2 more chapters planned anyway._

…

**Keep Your Enemies Closer.**

The Resolute had just left Bombay; the Daultons had not, in fact, requested to accompany the ship back to England. Re-provisioned and rested, the ship and crew were lighthearted about their return journey; the weather had been fair so far, and everything aboard ship was placid. The only happening of note was that they'd taken on a new crew member in Bombay, a lean, saturnine Frenchman in his mid-thirties named Sebastien. Some of the other men – men with particular reasons to hate the French – argued with Kirkland against hiring him, but he took the chance, partially because they needed another skilled hand on board.

This was the first time in several weeks that the captain and Lovino had dined alone. The camaraderie of the crew had become quite enjoyable for Lovino, so the two of them had been joining the others for the main evening meal. Today, however, the captain had decided to eat in the cabin, so Lovino offered to eat with him, to keep him company. Truth to tell, the young man had sort of missed their quiet dinners.

"Are you planning to give this cat a name?" the captain asked, laughing. "I'm getting tired of calling her 'kitten' all the time!" He reached down to feed her a little salt pork from his plate.

The young man looked startled. "I already did! I've been calling her Lucrezia. I'm sorry, I thought you knew."

Kirkland nodded in appreciation. "Big name for a little kitten. Hello, Lucrezia," he said to the cat. To Lovino: "Are you – did you have a classical education?" This was the first time he'd tried to broach the topic of his cabin boy's childhood.

"Yes. I'm actually from Rome," he offered, "not Spain. But my parents sent me to a Spanish monastery to study when I was eleven. I studied the kinds of things you would learn in monasteries…history, literature, calligraphy, music, the Mass of course. I have some art talent, so I was allowed to study painting, also." He paused, looking down at the table. "Then my parents died in a fire in Rome when I was fifteen. The monks allowed me to stay until I was sixteen, but since I didn't want to take vows, they asked me to leave after that."

"I'm sorry for your loss." Kirkland's voice was quiet and kind. "What did you do after that?"

"Not much," Lovino admitted. "There isn't much employment for someone with those artistic qualifications. I didn't have enough money to go back to Rome, and wasn't really sure I wanted to anyway, since I'd been away so long. I was destitute when – when Fernandez found me." He looked up at Captain Kirkland. "He offered me steady employment on his ship. I thought it would be interesting…secure. More fool me." His voice did not break, though, which pleased him. His thoughts spiraled outward, considering the turns his life had taken after that; weighing the confusion and pain of his few months aboard that ship with the security and peace on Kirkland's. He'd been on the Resolute for over a year now, and the bad memories seemed so far distant, almost like a nightmare that had lost its power to terrify. Lovino came back to himself to find the captain watching him carefully, with a relieved expression on his face. "I'm sorry. Lost in memories for a moment."

"That's quite all right. It happens to all of us." Now it was the captain's turn to stare into space with a frown. He cracked his knuckles and the sound seemed to bring him back to the present. They finished dinner speaking only of this and that, nothing serious, occasionally sharing tidbits with Lucrezia.

That evening they joined some of the rest of the crew on deck. Lovino had turned out to be a demon at tric-trac, so nobody would let him play anymore; instead, he sat with Lucrezia on the deck and stared at the stars, daydreaming idly. The reassuring sounds of his friends' voices washed over him comfortably, and the cat was pleasantly nestled on his lap. Every now and then he looked up to see Captain Kirkland looking at him fondly, and that made him happy, too.

…

Several months later, the ship docked in Casablanca. All the men but Lovino were familiar with this port, and many of them discussed with excitement their favorite taverns, shops, brothels. The atmosphere on the ship was that of a fair, and Captain Kirkland laughed more than once to see his normally focused men acting like schoolboys on an outing. He planned to stay with the ship a few days while Jock had shore leave, and then trade places, get on land for a while, see something new. He went below decks as the men began disembarking.

"Hé, Lovino, do you want to join us?" Sebastien called out. "There's a _magnifique_ bordello here, plenty of experienced girls to make you feel _very good_!" He nudged Jock companionably in the ribs. "Do the boy good, wouldn't it?" he continued, sotto voce.

"No, thank you, Sebastien, I'm fine staying here. Enjoy yourself." Lovino turned and walked away from the gangplank.

The Frenchman turned back to Jock. "I suppose if one is bedding the captain, one doesn't need a brothel," he winked.

Jock let out a low Scottish growl from his throat. "That would never happen on the Resolute, frog. I suggest you watch your mouth."

Sebastien merely shrugged, as if in disbelief, and walked away.

…

Kirkland had decided on an extended shore leave in Casablanca, since they all loved the place so. In the sweet African sunshine, some of them (including the captain, but not Lovino) were swimming in a beachy area away from the docks. Lovino merely sat on the sand, watching.

"Why don't you come in and swim?" Simon, the ship's cook asked. "It's nice and warm!" He was a great big bald man, and looked quite fearsome as he stood in the water bare-chested, tattoos glowing in the sun.

Lovino shrugged. "Never learned how."

"Damn it," the cook laughed. "Everybody here can swim. Come on, someone will teach you!" He kicked water towards the young man, who ducked, laughing in return.

"Hey, captain!" Simon called out. "Lovino doesn't know how to swim!" Several of the other men turned to listen to this.

"Well, then someone should teach him," Kirkland, floating in the warm water, stood up. "Come on, Lovino, even if you don't want to learn to swim, you can enjoy this nice water." The water was only waist-deep where he stood. "It's not that deep – you could even just walk around in it for a while." He shook his wet, messy blond hair out like a dog, and Lovino had to smile.

"All right. Hold on." He stripped down to his trousers as the other men had done, carefully leaving his boots and shirt out of reach of the water, and waded in. Hmm, the captain had been right; the water was really quite comfortable. He waded further out, feeling the squishy sand under his feet, listening to the call of sea birds. The sun was bright, but not harsh; Lovino let himself feel the beauty of the place anew as he walked through the water towards the captain.

Kirkland had moved further out, but was still standing with his shoulders well above the water line. Lovino managed to walk out that far without a problem. Hmm, he hadn't realized he was almost the same height as the captain now. He sighed a little, comparing his own slender torso to the captain's broader, well-muscled one. Perhaps he should start studying swordplay, or doing heavier work around the ship?

"Do you want to learn to swim? Or just float around in the water?" Kirkland asked. Simon approached from behind Lovino.

"I don't mind trying to learn. Uh – how long will it take?"

Both Simon and Kirkland laughed. "Depends how fast a learner you are. We threw Simon overboard one day, and he learned mighty quickly!"

Lovino looked at the cook in astonishment. "That's – amazing," he finally answered, and the other two laughed again.

"Here, try it this way," the captain said. "Just float on your back. Just lay back, as if you were going to go to sleep. Remember to hold your breath." Lovino lay back and promptly sank. He rose back up, spluttering. Simon and Kirkland were both smiling at him, so he didn't complain, but he was not happy.

"Don't worry. You just forgot to hold your breath. Filled lungs help keep you afloat. Try again."

This time Lovino took a deep breath and held it, leaning back gently until he felt the water meet his back. He raised his feet, and managed to float for a few seconds before needing to breathe again. "Hey, I did it!" he crowed, standing up.

"That's half the battle," Kirkland began, but then he noticed Jock waving to him from the shore. "I'll be back in a minute. Keep practicing?" Lovino nodded and lay back to float again.

When he stood up, Sebastien was standing near him, and Simon had moved off a little ways. "Just learning to swim, mon ami? Now you should try floating face-down. Just turn your head to the side, to breathe, and stretch your arms out in front. Yes? Don't worry, if you feel yourself beginning to sink. I'll be right here, and you can just put your feet down onto the ocean floor."

Lovino didn't like this man at all, but he thought it would be fun to progress a bit before Captain Kirkland came back, so he could show off a little. He did as the Frenchman suggested, remembering to fill his lungs first. He put his upper body flat on the surface of the warm sparkling water, and allowed his feet to float up easily behind him. As he turned his head to breathe, he sensed Sebastien stepping closer, and then felt the man slide a hand underneath him, reaching intimately down between his legs to fondle him. Lovino splashed to a standing position, coughing, spluttering, with his eyes wide in fear, recoiling from the Frenchman. "Stop that!" he yelled, still coughing.

Simon heard the commotion and turned back to them. Kirkland began plowing through the water towards them. "What's going on here?"

"Nothing, mon capitaine," Sebastien replied with a tiny smirk. "Just helping the boy learn to swim." But Lovino's stricken face, flushed, hand covering his mouth, belied that casual comment, making it obvious just what had happened.

"You _will _leave the ship, immediately," the captain hissed. "We _do not_ tolerate that sort of behavior." Beside him, Simon stood, grim and silent. The Frenchman merely stared at Kirkland in disbelief.

"You'd throw me out over that? Playing with the ship's tart?"

Kirkland leaped and punched him in the nose, drawing blood. "Apologize," he growled. Sebastien didn't respond, simply wiped his nose with the back of his hand and stared at the captain. "_Apologize," _ Kirkland repeated, making a fist again. Simon moved to stand behind the Frenchman.

"Sorry," Sebastien finally muttered, in an unconvincing tone.

"Simon, please ask Fanshaw and Worthington to come here." The captain did not break eye contact with Sebastien until the two men arrived.

"Trouble with the frog, sir?" Fanshaw asked, grim.

"You and Worthington are in charge of him. Take him to the ship, get his belongings together, and make sure he leaves the ship as soon as possible. Simon, please ask Jock to make up his final pay packet and then the three of you escort him off the ship into the city. Tell Jock I'll join him on the ship in a few minutes."

"Come on, you," Worthington said, grabbing Sebastien by the arm. The Frenchman shook him off angrily and moved to the shore, with the crewmen following him to where Jock still stood, waiting for the captain.

Lovino had stood in shock this whole time. Kirkland, satisfied that Sebastien would be dealt with properly, now turned to him. "Are you all right, Lovino? Did he hurt you?"

"N-no, he just – he grabbed me, and I – I – dammit, why do people have to _do_ stuff like that?" He frowned angrily. "He's been pestering me all the time and I don't encourage it at all, I really don't."

"He's been pestering you? Why didn't you tell me? I would have gotten rid of him long before this. I don't want you under that sort of tension."

"I – I suppose I thought I could handle it," Lovino muttered. He couldn't blame anyone for this; it wasn't as though it could have been prevented. "That I didn't need to trouble you. Sorry to be such a nuisance."

"Lovino, you are not a nuisance. You're a valued member of my crew, and – and I told you you'd be safe on my ship," he continued in a rush, "and you weren't. Clearly I'm to blame for this, for taking Sebastien on." Kirkland pushed his hand through his still-wet hair angrily, looking back towards shore.

"That's completely not fair, you know," Lovino replied in a lower voice. "How could you have known?" He laughed shortly. "Fanshaw was right; you shouldn't have trusted a frog."

"I didn't."

"Didn't what?" Lovino was now confused.

"Didn't trust him. I had my reasons for taking him on, but I'm sorry he had to step over the line with you. I need to get back to the ship, to finish up with Jock. Will you be all right? Do you want to stay here?"

"No, I'll come back, too."

…

That night Lovino lay awake in bed a long time, waiting for the captain to come back. He wanted to apologize for the weakness he'd shown, to make sure Kirkland realized that he was not to blame for the Frenchman's actions and attitude. But it was long past the captain's usual bedtime and he wasn't back yet. And Lovino wasn't sleepy. He tossed and turned on the narrow bunk. Even Lucrezia had abandoned him tonight.

Eventually Kirkland stumbled in, reeking of drink, and collapsed on his bed without even removing his boots. Lovino was horrified. He'd never seen the captain _drunk_ before. Drinking, yes, but he'd always held his liquor well. Had, had the captain gotten drunk because of what had happened this afternoon? Had he been pushed over the edge by that stupid Frenchman? This was completely wrong. He was filled with a sudden desire to kill Sebastien for driving the captain to this, but he knew he'd never have the courage or strength to act on that.

Similar tortured thoughts kept him awake even longer, until suddenly the door to the cabin opened quietly and a man slipped inside. Before Lovino could cry out, the man had reached his bedside, slipped a hand over the young man's mouth, and put the other hand on his body, moving it slowly. "Quiet, mon ami," Sebastien's voice whispered in the dark. "We don't want to wake the captain, do we? Oh, but he is so _very_ drunk, he will never hear—"

Sebastien stopped abruptly. Lovino looked up to see Kirkland, apparently stone cold sober, standing over him like an avenging angel, holding a dagger to the Frenchman's throat. "I don't even need a reason, frog spy," the blond man spat. "The only reason I haven't cut your throat yet is because I don't want Lovino covered in your filthy French blood. I know you've been sending information to Bonnefoy. I've been feeding you misinformation for him."

To the surprise of both Lovino and the captain, Sebastien turned in a low crouch, avoiding the dagger's edge, and drew his sword. Kirkland immediately stepped between the sword point and Lovino's bed. "Go get Jock," he hissed. "Now."

Lovino needed no further urging, and slipped out of the room as the two men began a deadly game of cat and mouse. As he ran, he was filled with fear – the captain had only a dagger, and the Frenchman had the longer reach of a sword. And the captain was drunk? He wasn't acting drunk, but he certainly had seemed to be, when he'd come back to the cabin. "Jock, Jock," he called out, hammering on the man's door.

Jock stepped out fully-dressed with his great claymore in one hand. "So he came back, did he? Let's go." The two of them moved towards the captain's cabin. Simon and Fanshaw stuck their heads out of their cabins, but Jock just grimaced and shook his head. "I'll send Lovino if we need you," he barked.

When they returned to the cabin the fight had come to a standstill. Kirkland was kneeling on Lovino's bunk at swordpoint. Sebastien looked more tired than the captain, but his sword still gave him the better reach. "Jock, is that you?" the captain called out, not letting his eyes leave the Frenchman.

"That's right, sir."

Kirkland nodded in acknowledgement, and then did something Lovino would never forget. With his unprotected left hand, he grabbed the blade of Sebastien's sword and yanked it towards him. The Frenchman, still gripping the hilt, stumbled, and when he got within arm's reach, the captain slit his throat with the dagger. Blood poured everywhere, on the captain, on the bunk; the French spy collapsed onto the floor, his hand releasing the sword at the last. Kirkland, breathing raggedly, finally let go of the sword blade and flexed his cut left hand absently.

"Jock. Get someone to take this out, weight it, dump it. Two miles ought to do it. Double pay." He nodded toward the dead Frenchman, still panting with exertion. "Lovino, find me something to bind my hand with." The first mate turned without speaking to go find Simon and Fanshaw; Lovino began rummaging in a drawer for a clean cloth. Kirkland climbed off the bunk, stripped off his bloodied shirt, and threw it on the floor next to the body.

He stood shuddering in the middle of the room, not looking at Sebastien's body, the blood, or Lovino, continuing to take deep rasping breaths, as the cabin boy cleaned and bound the sliced hand. Lovino was more than impressed with Captain Kirkland tonight – this was a side of the man he'd never seen, never really expected to see. He'd done what needed to be done – and he had done it to protect him, Lovino Vargas, from the perversions of a French spy! This was a very powerful feeling, but the young man did not feel he had the leisure to think it over just now.

Simon and Fanshaw arrived with an old sail and began to wrap the corpse up, as well as Kirkland's bloody shirt and Lovino's bedclothes and mattress. "Good one, Arthur," Fanshaw said quietly. The captain just nodded. When they'd carried the body out, he gestured to Lovino to shut the door again.

"Captain? May I ask you something?" Kirkland was still looking around the room, as though avoiding Lovino's gaze, although his breathing had returned to normal.

"Yes," he barked.

"You – how did you sober up so fast? You were so drunk!"

Kirkland gave a short laugh. "Not drunk. Rinsed out my mouth with rum, poured the rest down my shirt, to lull him. Knew there'd be trouble, knew he'd either come back to kill me or to hurt you…maybe both." He finally looked at his young friend with concern, with something else in his eyes that Lovino couldn't quite identify. "Are you all right?"

"Yes…just a little startled. A lot startled. And a lot impressed." He gave Kirkland a weak smile, and got a weak smile in return. "Jock – Simon? They knew?"

"And Fanshaw and Worthington. They all knew from the outset that I suspected the man. But it seemed wise to keep him close, where we could control the information he was sending to Bonnefoy." He looked over at Lovino's now-bare bunk. "You'll have to sleep in my bunk tonight." Lovino froze, but Kirkland went on, oblivious. "I'll sleep in a hammock; there's a spare one in my trunk."

The young man avoided Kirkland's gaze. "We – we could share your bunk," he suggested in a somewhat broken tone of voice. It simply wasn't fair that after defending him so heroically, the captain should have to sleep in the discomfort of a hammock!

Kirkland sighed and rubbed his face with his uninjured hand, not responding for a few moments. "Come and sit on the bunk, Lovino. It's time I talked to you about something." _Oh dear._ Lovino had probably just made a _huge_ mistake, offering that. He twisted his fingers together nervously and moved to the bunk to sit. The captain paced in front of him, spending a few minutes gathering his thoughts.

"I was Fernandez's first cabin boy," he finally said quietly, as if it explained everything, and in the silence that followed, Lovino almost felt that it did. "He was twenty years old, and a friend of mine, although three years older; I lived in Spain at the time. His rich father bought him a ship, and he talked me into joining his crew. We were going to be pirates together. Of course it was a ridiculous, boyish idea, but he somehow managed to hire experienced men to crew the ship, and we sailed off. For a few weeks it was a lot of fun – until we took our first spoils." He drew a deep breath. "There had been a fight – he had killed a man, his first, and he was so filled with – with crazed lust after the fight, that he – well – I'm sure _you_ understand. For several weeks, while we sailed the Atlantic, I was more or less his prisoner. I knew that no one on his crew – drawing wages from him as they did – would back up a measly cabin boy, who was not even really a sailor. The first time we sighted land, I jumped overboard and swam to shore, vowing vengeance on him. I spent nine years learning to sail a ship, learning to command, to _kill_, before I finally chased him down."

Lovino was stunned, but the other man did not seem to notice. He continued in a weak voice, "It's impossible to describe the pain I felt...he had been my _friend._ I'd _trusted_ him with so much of my life...to be betrayed like that, I..." His voice drifted off for a moment, then grew grim again. "Eventually I found men for my crew who had just as much reason to seek revenge as I did." He paused again. "The day I killed him was probably the best day of my life. Not only did I get my revenge on him, but it also brought you into my life, my friend. And it stopped him from hurting anyone, ever again." Kirkland walked to look out the porthole. "But you will know me well enough by now to see that I _cannot_ behave like he did. I just can't, Lovino. I will not share a bunk with you, will not risk hurting you like that. You may sleep safely tonight in my bunk, alone."

Silence reigned in the cabin. Lovino felt a deep sadness, that he could not console his friend – yes, his friend, not just his protector, not just his employer – after such a difficult day and evening. He didn't have the words to explain this, though. He simply returned to twisting his fingers together. "At least let me take the hammock," he offered quietly. "You're hurt – you should have the bunk."

A knock on the cabin door startled them both. "Come in," the captain called.

Fanshaw and Jock entered. "It's done, captain."

"Fine. Thank you both." Kirkland drew a deep breath. "In the morning, let's see if we can find out where he took rooms. I'll need to get there and find any paperwork he had. Need to see what, if anything, Bonnefoy is expecting to hear. All right?" He raised his eyes to Jock, who nodded. The two men left the room.

"You take the bunk, Lovino. Don't argue with me on this. But I'll need your help with the hammock," Kirkland said wearily. "With the cut on my hand, I won't be able to use it properly for a few days." Lovino nodded sadly and moved to get the hammock out of the battered trunk.

…

He lay awake for a long time in the captain's bunk, trying to sort out the difficult events of the day. Kirkland had always taken such good care of him; this he had always realized, but it hadn't been until the painful disclosure about his past that Lovino appreciated just how much his new cabin boy's plight had spoken to the pain in the blond man's soul.

But by this time in their relationship, he knew that Kirkland was not the type of man to assault him, even if they _had_ been sleeping in the same bunk. He sighed. He kept returning to the part of the conversation where the captain had assured him that he would not risk hurting Lovino. Why did Kirkland feel he needed to say this? Lovino knew he was in no danger from the captain, had never been. If the man had been the type to pressure someone that way, he would have done it long before now.

He tossed and turned in the bunk, thoughts circling round, until dawn.


	4. Choleric, Sanguine

_OK, so, maybe 2 more chapters _after_ this one! I have to do a lot of research for the battle scene._

…

**Choleric, Sanguine.**

The next morning, both the captain and Lovino looked haggard from lack of sleep. Before they left the cabin for breakfast, Kirkland spoke to the young man, seeming agitated.

"Do you still want to continue sailing with us?"

"Of course I do!" was Lovino's instant shocked reaction. "Why wouldn't I?"

The captain didn't look at his friend. "Last night was a bit – stressful. I just wasn't sure whether you were still interested in staying on, when that kind of a - a situation can crop up."

"I hardly think spies are going to be bursting into our cabin every night," Lovino scoffed. "I'll be fine. Maybe I'll start learning how to use a sword, or at least a dagger."

The captain looked confused; then his face cleared, and he shrugged, speaking slowly, as if looking for the words. "That's up to you. Jock would be an excellent teacher, if you want to pursue that." He paused again. "I think you should move into the frog's cabin."

"What?" Now Lovino was rather alarmed. "What – why?"

"Look, you aren't really a cabin boy any more. There's no need for you to be here at my beck and call all the time; you're doing a lot of useful things for everyone on the ship. If you really do want to stay on the ship—"

"Yes—"

"—then consider this like a promotion; you get your own cabin, and don't have to take on servant's duties any longer. If you keep working hard, I'll be able to officially give you that position in a few months, if you want it."

Lovino thought about this. "Why in his cabin, though? Oh, it's probably the only empty one, isn't it?"

Kirkland nodded. "It would probably be better that way." He turned away slightly.

"Do I _have_ to?"

"What? Well…for one thing, your mattress got ruined last night."

"I could take the hammock. Or, wouldn't his mattress fit on my bunk? Argh, but I don't think I want to sleep on his mattress."

The captain actually snorted at that. "Well, in that case I'll have to send someone into town to get a new mattress to replace it."

"I don't want to move into his cabin." Lovino folded his arms stubbornly and pouted a little.

"Because you feel safer here? I can understand that, but…listen to me. You shouldn't…remain dependent on me." Kirkland pushed his hands through his hair. "You've been doing very well, making friends, learning about the ship, taking small risks…I'm proud of how you've dealt with the changes in your life, how you've been maturing," he trailed off. "But you shouldn't stay dependent on my protection." He began to pace again. "I know you're only seventeen, but—"

"Captain!" the young man interrupted, laughing, "I'm almost twenty!"

"_What_?"

"Well, yes! I was almost eighteen when you took me on, and we've – we've been together for two years now. I'll be twenty in a little while."

Kirkland's face turned red. "Sorry," he offered gruffly. "I hadn't really considered that."

"It's not a problem. But, what you were saying about being safer, or dependent – that's not why I want to stay in your cabin. It's just, well…I like being with you. I know you're my employer, but…I kind of thought we were friends, too, by now." His voice faded.

"We _are_ friends. That doesn't mean we need to – er – share a cabin every night. We can still be good friends if you're being more independent."

Lovino began to pace a little. "Do you – is there some reason you don't want me here with you?" He looked at the captain with troubled eyes. _Bingo. _Kirkland paled and turned away without a word.

"Listen, sir," he went on in a rush. "About what I said last night. I – I'm sorry. I didn't mean to, to be pushy? I only offered to share the bunk because I thought it would be uncomfortable for you in a hammock, since you were injured. It didn't seem fair to put you to that discomfort, when you'd fought so bravely, d-defending me." He looked down at his feet. Had that sounded too weak?

Kirkland merely grunted, still looking away, hands on hips.

"And…and I don't understand why you're so worried that you might…jump me…I know you wouldn't do that. You _couldn't_. I've never worried about that _at all, _even before you told me about your past."

Lovino watched his captain walk to the wall and brace himself against it, head in arms, not speaking. What had he said wrong? He had thought this would ease Kirkland's mind, not agitate him further. He stood jittering in silence, not knowing what else to do or say.

"All right," the blond finally responded abruptly. "I'll send someone to buy a new mattress today. You can keep sleeping here, if you like." He turned from the wall to face Lovino. "But if you ever do want to have your own cabin, just tell me. It won't be a problem. Let's go get our breakfast." He strode out of the cabin without giving the young man a chance to respond.

…

Upon returning to England, Captain Kirkland always had to check in with his superiors at the Royal Navy for his next orders. Other times, when he had been going ashore, he had offered to take Lovino with him, to show him the sights, or for a change of scenery. But here it was the night before his departure for London, and the captain hadn't even asked.

Lovino was worried by this. Their relationship had subtly changed after the events in Casablanca. Kirkland frequently treated him more like an adult, an equal, which he liked, but that meant there was a little more distance between them, too. Every time before this, when he had invited Lovino to join him ashore, the younger man had declined. If the captain expected to be turned down every time, perhaps he had simply given up inviting him. Maybe – maybe he'd asked someone else?

Kirkland extinguished the lantern. "Lovino? Did you want to go to London with me? I – I'll be gone about four days."

Lovino, petting the cat, let out a silent breath of relief. So maybe nothing was wrong...perhaps it had simply slipped the captain's mind until now. "I – yes, I would like that. I've never been anywhere in England."

"I remember," came Kirkland's amused voice. "Well, get your rest, we'll leave after breakfast. You'll need to pack your things in the morning."

"Yes, sir," Lovino replied happily.

…

The first thing the captain did, after engaging a room for them, was to take Lovino shopping for some new clothes. Since they would be meeting Kirkland's superior, more formal dress was required than the linen shirts and woolen trousers common to shipboard life. The two spent a pleasant afternoon wandering around London looking for appropriate items. Lovino spent some of his earnings on a new pair of boots and some new books to add to their small library in the cabin. This made him idly wonder what the captain did with his pay, but he didn't feel comfortable asking.

Kirkland seemed surprisingly lighthearted; perhaps, being away from the ship, he felt himself able to relax more? Lovino had worked out that the captain was only nine years older than himself. Still a young man, then, despite his cares and duties. He had even managed to make the captain laugh a few times, genuine laughter, which pleased him a great deal. It almost felt as if they were simply two friends having an adventure in the big city.

London was a vast and noisy place. The buildings covered all styles: tiny cottages, cramped townhomes, grandiose mansions; some areas had lovely tree-lined avenues and some nothing but squalid alleys filled with ordure. People with the most outrageous accents and tattered clothing rubbed elbows with swells in elegant carriages. Dogs and cats and yes, even rats, roamed the streets, and the smell was truly appalling, especially after the clean sweet smell of the sea. Lovino wondered why anyone would want to live like this, and mentioned as much to his friend.

"Some people like the hustle and bustle. They want to be where they feel things are happening. Certainly there's always _something_ happening in London. It always seems so exciting to come to the city, and then, once I'm here, I can't wait to get back to the Resolute." They laughed together at this.

The next day, decked out in their finery, they met with the Naval official. Lovino had been a bit nervous – surely introducing your cabin boy to such a high-ranking man would be looked at askance? Kirkland circumvented this by introducing Lovino simply as one of the crew. They recapped the journey with the "clergyman" (Kirkland didn't give away his knowledge of the man's true mission), then discussed the Resolute's new orders. Apparently Bonnefoy had fled to North American waters and was harassing the British shipping lanes there. Kirkland was directed to intercept him and put a stop to his activities, taking as long as needed. After some more small talk, the official bid them adieu, and they left the imposing building.

"Well, I'm glad that's over! What would you like to do now?" the captain asked, grinning, stretching his arms up to the afternoon sky. "Anything you like, Lovino. Since it's your first time in London, you choose. What would you like to do?"

"I – well – there _was _something…To-today's my birthday," he stammered. "Will you – can we have dinner together somewhere nice?" He knew he was blushing, but didn't understand why such a simple request would cause him to react like that.

"Happy birthday," Kirkland said ceremoniously. "Of course I'll take you out for a nice dinner." Lovino looked up to see the captain smiling fondly at him, and blushing as well. Perhaps it was simply due to the warmer weather. "I know just the place."

…

Over dinner in a quiet, elegant restaurant, the captain asked Lovino his opinions of London so far. "Well, it's a lot noisier than I'd expected. I suppose it's just more, more progressive than what I'm used to? So many people doing so many things." He thought about this for a minute. "I'm also kind of accustomed to the quiet on the ship, compared to all this activity."

"It can be a bit daunting at first, that's true. I grew up in the country, and still can't get used to it." He poured some more wine for them. Lovino sipped it gently. He was not a drinker. A few of the men on the Resolute abstained from any kind of liquor, but in Lovino's case it was more that he didn't care for the flavor. This wine was quite nice, though; a robust red with just a hint of sweetness to it. He savored it while they talked and ate.

"Whereabouts are you from?"

"I grew up in Devon. Near Dartmoor. It's a beautiful, quiet place. My family had been farmers there for ages, but I just didn't have the desire to work the land."

"Now that I've become a sailor, I can certainly see your point, but then, to make a home in a beautiful place was always a dream of mine as a child. I suppose that being raised in a monastery drove me to dream of a remote place, where I wouldn't need to be surrounded by people all the time." He smiled softly at Kirkland.

"And here you are living on a relatively small ship with twenty-three other men," the captain laughed.

"It just goes to show that home is more about how you live, rather than where you live. The Resolute is my home, now. Thank you for that."

"You're very welcome, Lovino. Happy birthday."

…

In the hackney on the way back to their hotel, Lovino fell asleep, leaning against the captain's shoulder. Kirkland carried him tenderly to their room and put him on a bed, removing his new elegant boots afterwards. _Twenty he may be, but in many ways still a child._ The captain smiled at his snoring friend before slipping into his own uncomfortable bed.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Yes, yes, Dartmoor is my favorite place in England. _


	5. Jinxed

**Jinxed.**

The Resolute was more than halfway towards its destination. After several days of rain and the occasional storm, the weather had finally broken. It was still overcast, but at least dry; many of the men were on deck, enjoying the fresh air.

Lovino had indeed asked Jock to teach him the most effective way to use a sword. The two of them were sparring, and although Jock was clearly the better swordsman, Lovino's slender, supple young body gave him a slight advantage against the older, heavier man. Kirkland, who had been talking to some of the men on deck, turned to watch his progress, once again impressed with his friend's determination to learn.

When they stopped for a break, both men turned to the captain. "How's he doing?" Kirkland asked, crossing to join them.

"I'm surprised," Jock said. "He's almost a natural."

Kirkland nodded at Lovino with appreciation. "It's always fascinating to find out you can be really good at something you never tried before," he offered; Lovino, winded, just nodded back at him. "Let me take a turn sparring. I could use the exercise. What do you say? Do you have the energy, Jock?" He took the sword from Lovino's unresisting hands and tested it.

Jock grinned. "Go easy on me, Arthur!" Lovino stood by, regaining his strength. Someone brought him some fresh water, and he stood back to drink it.

…

Lovino watched the captain carefully, to see whether he could pick up any tips from his technique. He'd had about five days' worth of training from Jock now, and while the Scot was indeed a good teacher, they'd both worried that learning from only one man would lull Lovino into a false sense of complacency. After all, every opponent would be different. Watching others would help, or even sparring with others. And so he watched the captain's moves, watched him taunt Jock laughingly as they fought, cracking little jokes, trying to distract his opponent. Lovino couldn't tell whether this was effective in and of itself, or whether Jock was simply too tired from his earlier practice while Kirkland was fresh, but Jock was definitely getting the worst of it.

"All right, I'll let you off the hook," Kirkland finally laughed. "It wasn't fair of me to take you on when you were so winded."

"Ach, Arthur, you know in a real fight, I wouldna have the luxury, either." Jock wiped his streaming face with the tail of his shirt. "What I want to see is how Lovino would fare in a bout with you!"

Several of the men nearby agreed. "What do you think, Lovino?" the captain asked. "Are you too tired to take me on?"

"I can handle it," Lovino answered, more confidently than he actually felt. But he knew the captain wouldn't hurt him, or make him look bad intentionally. Jock took the empty water cup.

"Give me your sword, Jock. Here, you take this one." Kirkland handed Lovino's sword back to him, took Jock's practice sword – it really wouldn't have been fair of Jock to use his claymore against a novice like Lovino – and stepped to the center of the deck. Men from other parts of the ship turned to watch this, too.

Kirkland started with no preamble, presumably hoping to startle Lovino, but the younger man recovered and parried the thrust. The captain didn't joke around this time, instead fighting in earnest. Lovino defended himself ably, but couldn't get ahead enough to go on the offense. He was too busy keeping the oncoming sword away from himself.

For several minutes Kirkland attacked; Lovino defended; he was giving ground, but unaware of it. Eventually the captain had him backed into the bulkhead, and Lovino let his guard down in shock when he felt it touch his back. Kirkland withdrew his sword.

"Very good, quick defenses, Lovino…but in a fight you're going to need more." Lovino shook his head in frustration. "No, no," the captain went on. "Don't worry! You've only been training about a week, remember? You'll need to practice more, and with a variety of people, too, that's all."

"Yes, sir," he said, still determined, but too exhausted to talk about it any more in-depth.

"Why don't you quit for today? You've exerted yourself a lot." Lovino nodded again and walked to the side of the deck. Kirkland motioned Jock over to his side.

"Make sure he gets some time practicing with the others. Fanshaw, maybe; he's got a very different style. Somebody with a cutlass, too. He's doing a great job with the defense, Jock. Thanks. Just get him exposed to other fighters." Jock agreed.

…

"Captain? I have a favor to ask you." Lovino was nervous, but determined to ask this.

"Sure, what is it?"

"May I – might I move into the empty cabin?"

Kirkland's eyebrows rose in astonishment. "Of course you may. I already told you that. Is there any particular reason?"

"Nh, just, I – well, no. I just…I think it's time. I've been thinking about what you said before, and there really is no reason for me to keep staying here, like a frightened child."

"That's fine. It's been standing empty; we can move your things over there right away, if you like."

"Yes, that's good." Together they gathered up Lovino's small amount of accumulated possessions. "We – we could leave the books here, so they're all in one library?" he offered.

"That's fine. Anytime you want to come get them, feel free to do so." They moved the other things to the empty cabin.

As Lovino puttered around distributing things the way he wanted them in the new cabin, Kirkland pushed his hand through his hair. "Listen."

The tone of his voice caught the young man's attention immediately. "Yes?"

"I think by now it's appropriate for you to start calling me Arthur," Kirkland said, smiling. "You're a regular crew member now, not just a cabin boy, so…" His voice trailed off.

"I appreciate that, s—Arthur," Lovino beamed in surprise.

"I'll let you settle in, then. If there's anything you need, let me know."

"Yes, sir…Arthur…ha, that's going to take some getting used to!"

"You'll get the hang of it, I'm sure," Arthur grinned, leaving him in peace.

…

The Resolute stopped in New York to replenish its stores, give the men some time ashore, and see if there was any news about Bonnefoy and his ship _Le Furtif_. Unfortunately, there was no news. Arthur decided they needed to sail the line between New York and the Bahamas to get more information.

Lovino continued his sword practice. He felt that he was improving, but still wondered, feared, how he'd fare in an actual fight. Hopefully it would never come to that. A few times in the privacy of his new cabin he'd tried gripping the blade as the captain had done to Sebastien's, and each time he'd sliced his hand a little, with the barest pressure, and it hurt like hell. Every time he tried it, he grew more impressed with, more thankful for, his friend Arthur.

…

"Eh, Captain, I think I see her!" Worthington was in the rigging, looking south; there was definitely something on the horizon, but only he had the spyglass to make it out. "Can't really tell at this distance. Right size, about, but she's not flying any colors at all."

"Good work," Kirkland called. "Keep her in your sights, and we'll do what we can to get in better range." He called out orders to the crew and the ship got under way in earnest.

…

"Damn that frog," Arthur snarled one day, several weeks later. They'd been chasing the alleged _Le Furtif_ all over the North American shipping lanes with no result. "I'm tired of this. Let's put in to shore." They were near the Bahamas, so they headed for Nassau.

…

Arthur and Lovino walked together down the streets of Nassau, listening to gossip, stopping occasionally to buy something to eat from a vendor on the street. Both of them had dressed in nondescript clothing so as not to attract attention. Once in a while they'd duck into a shop, examine the merchandise; Lovino purchased a wicked little Italian stiletto, a book; Arthur, some ammunition and a new hat.

"We have heard nothing at all?" Lovino asked as they wandered. "I find this very difficult to believe. I don't know the man – is Bonnefoy crafty enough to be keeping this from us? But we have so many people out listening and asking questions!"

"I can't imagine he's actually got enough control to stop us all learning any information. It almost makes me wonder whether he's moved on, maybe gone back to France? This just doesn't make any sense."

"Is it possible he has a new ship with a different name? It might explain why nobody's talking about _Le Furtif_."

Arthur considered. "That may be a valid point. Let's assume it's so – then how will we find him? Damn it."

"Or, maybe something happened to him and the ship? Maybe they've already been destroyed, somewhere else?"

"That could be, too, although I doubt it. I'll send off some letters tonight and see if we can get any response. Thank you. Talking it over with you really helps."

Lovino just grinned in response, and they walked on.

…

A week in Nassau had left the crew refreshed, and they got under way again to New York while they awaited the answer to Captain Kirkland's letter to the Royal Navy. Weeks en route to New York and then weeks back…when they arrived in Nassau again, there was indeed a letter waiting with the governor.

"What?" Kirkland yelled, reading the letter. "That's impossible_._ That can't be right."

"What's wrong?" Jock asked. They were the only two of the crew at the governor's mansion.

"Colhurst tells me that Bonnefoy has been captured!" He snorted. "By blasted Lord Percy."

"Percy couldn't find his arse with both hands," Jock snorted. "How the hell could he have found Bonnefoy? More likely Bonnefoy found him, and Percy got lucky in battle."

"And they want us back in England as soon as possible. Hmm. Could this letter be a forgery?" Arthur turned it over and looked at it. The governor had left the room, so he and Jock went looking for the man. "Sir, how did you obtain this letter?"

"Came in the diplomatic bag with everything else, Captain."

"The bag was sealed?"

"Of course. It's locked when leaving London and I have the only other key."

Jock and Arthur looked at each other. "Son of a bitch," Jock finally said.

"You said it. Come on, let's get back to the ship and tell the crew."

…

Most of the crew was just as irritated as Kirkland to find out their old nemesis had been captured already, and by such an insignificant sailor as Lord Percy. Lovino had never heard of the man, but from the commentary he overheard, that nobleman couldn't general a bun fight in a whorehouse (a phrase that made him laugh). Still, he was a bit relieved to realize there wouldn't – or _might not_ - be any conclusive fight with the French captain and his larger, more bloodthirsty (or so rumor had it) crew.

"I can't help feeling this is some kind of a trap," Arthur said to the men that night on deck. "It's just all so sudden and convenient."

"But who could lay a trap like that for us?" Lovino was quite curious about this. If the letter had indeed arrived in a sealed bag –

"I did have a thought," Jock said slowly. "That this might be a ruse by someone in London who bears a grudge against you. Someone who's trying to make you come home empty-handed and discredit you."

Arthur considered this also. "The problem is, I can't think of anyone with that kind of a beef against me! Or against any of you. The only person I can think of who would want to do us a rotten turn like that is Bonnefoy himself, and unless he's got access to the diplomatic bag somehow, this can't possibly be set up by him."

The men spent more time in thought, but no answers were forthcoming. In the absence of orders to the contrary, they decided to sail for England the next morning.

…

_I'm giving up estimating how many more chapters there will be. There _will be_ more chapters, that's about all I can say at this point._


	6. Execution

Arthur, seated on deck on the ever-present pile of sails, looked wearily around the ship. In another day they'd be in Southampton and he'd have to head to London to deal with this Bonnefoy business. The crew had been getting fidgety about the whole thing, and nobody was looking forward to docking. With Bonnefoy captured, what sort of orders would the Resolute receive next?

Lucrezia washed her paw absently while Arthur tickled her behind the ear. "Well, little one, what do you think of all this?" She ignored him, and he laughed a little. "Guess we'll see what tomorrow will bring." He leaned back to enjoy the weak sunlight, such as it was, and watched the sky.

…

"Tomorrow I'm heading to London, with Jock and Worthington," he announced to the crew. "Other than re-provisioning, there's really nothing needing to be done; let's take short shore leaves starting now, eight men, twelve hours, at least for a start. We'll probably have a little more time after I get back. Jock, you can take some leave tonight; Worthington, I'll let you go when we get back. All right? Sort it out amongst yourselves. Fanshaw will be in charge while we're away."

Everyone agreed. Arthur made his way back to his cabin while the crew discussed who would take the first night's leave.

That night, after the eight men had left for their leave, the remainder of the crew spent a few pleasant hours on deck discussing what they needed, and wanted, to get done while in port. Arthur was still slightly agitated about the whole 'end of Bonnefoy' thing, and walked the deck, irritated; Lovino matched strides with him and tried to help him overcome his fidgets.

"You can't really know what's going on until you get there, Arthur. Stop fretting about it!"

"I can't. It just doesn't make any sense."

"Just stop pacing! You're making me crazy!"

Arthur laughed at his friend. "You don't have to keep walking with me, but walking always helps me think."

"Argh, I don't really mind it; I just hate that you keep stressing about this. Pacing doesn't seem to be helping." They did both think and talk for a little while longer, leaning against the ship's railing, but coming to no conclusions, decided to retire for the night. Arthur did try to pace a bit more in his cabin, looking for inspiration, but there really wasn't enough room.

…

Down on the docks, in the deep of night, two men held a furtive conversation.

"Some of them have gone on leave already. So there aren't more than maybe fourteen that we need to worry about," an English voice whispered. "Maybe that blasted cabin boy, but he'd be useless in a fight anyway."

"I have my own plans for _cher_ Antonio's delicious cabin boy, after Kirkland is dead," came the quiet French response. "Make sure he's not harmed…much. Are our men in place?"

The Englishman nodded.

"_Bon_. You've done excellent work, Myers. I would not have believed Kirkland would fall for such a transparent ruse."

"It sure was a stroke of luck, me being able to get that job with Colhurst."

"Oui. Let's give it another half hour and then board them." Myers nodded and sneaked off to inform their men not to hurt Lovino. Much.

…

Arthur was still awake, still pacing and thinking, when he began to hear shouting from the deck. He grabbed his sword and opened the door to leave the cabin, but was startled into jumping backwards by the tip of a cutlass held angled up at his throat.

"_Bon soir, Capitaine_ Kirkland," hissed Bonnefoy. "Your ship is mine, now."

"Awake! Awake!" Arthur thundered to his crew, hoping they had not been caught as unawares as he had been. He backed up enough to get some room to fight. Bonnefoy followed him into the cabin, swinging the cutlass as well as he could in the confined space.

"What the hell are you doing here?" The fight began in earnest. Arthur had a better reach, because his sword was longer, but the Frenchman had been prepared for the fight, and was vicious. "I thought you were apprehended by Percy."

"Percy is an ass," Bonnefoy snarled. "You must be some kind of idiot to have believed that letter."

"Son of a bitch," Arthur hissed, parrying the thrusts.

For some moments there were no sounds but the swish and clang of steel and the harsh breathing of the two enemy captains. Kirkland didn't even have time to wonder how his men were faring; Bonnefoy was too good, too intent for him to lose even an instant of concentration. He continued backing away until he was up against the wall; tried to dodge, tried to disturb the Frenchman's absorption, but couldn't. "Don't bother to fight me, Kirkland," Bonnefoy sneered again. "You _are_ going to die tonight."

Lovino, covered in blood, burst into the cabin and froze at the scene before him. His sword was extended, but as he watched the two men fight, the point dropped towards the floor. Arthur noted his presence, but could not spare the time to react; Bonnefoy, facing away from the door, seemed oblivious.

"My beloved Antonio will _not_ have died in vain," the Frenchman continued. "His remaining men have joined me, except for the thoroughly dastardly Myers, who has been working with your Royal Navy for some time now."

"You fucking son of a bitch. You'll not get off my ship alive." Arthur thrust at him again but it was again deflected.

"But neither will you, _monsieur_." Bonnefoy's next thrust knocked the sword out of Kirkland's hand, and Arthur could not defend himself now.

Lovino was still staring wildly at the oblivious Frenchman's back, but when he saw the edge of the cutlass raised to Arthur's throat, he raised his sword and slashed Bonnefoy across the back of the neck with its edge. With all three of them in the small cabin, there wasn't much room to maneuver. "Get away from him, you bastard!" he yelled hoarsely.

Bonnefoy did not remove his cutlass from Arthur's throat or his eyes from Arthur's eyes. He spoke almost leisurely in response. The sword's edge had done no more harm than slicing open a fine cut, and Bonnefoy was clearly not worried. "Ah, ah, is that the lovely Italian cabin boy I hear? Put down your sword, _mon ami_; you are safe this night. From _death_, at any rate. I'm taking you back with me."

"Like hell," Lovino snarled, dropping the sword and quickly drawing his stiletto from his boot. He stepped forward and drove it without hesitation into Bonnefoy's back, right up to the hilt, pulling it out again quickly in case he needed to strike again.

But the Frenchman staggered and gasped, turning. Arthur took advantage of this confusion to twist the cutlass out of his unresisting hand. Blood poured onto the cabin floor. Lovino stood in disbelief, in exhilaration, as the man crumpled to the floor, dead.

"Jesus," Arthur panted, "thank you, Lovino. Let's get out there and see what's happening." He picked up his sword and grabbed his friend's arm; they ran up on deck.

…

An hour later all of the intruders had been killed, except Myers; Kirkland wanted him alive to take back for trial. He was severely bound and two of the crew were guarding him by the ship's railing.

Lovino bowed his head. Adrenaline had drained from him, leaving him weakened and shocked. He had acquitted himself well – and he was extremely relieved and proud to have saved the captain's life – but both of his friends Simon and Worthington had died this night. Five others from the Resolute's crew had also met death at the hands of the French pirates.

Arthur still stood breathing heavily, wildly looking around at the carnage. He'd dispatched Fanshaw earlier, to find the rest of the crew in town. "Christ," he swore. "Now what."

Jock and a few others arrived from town at a run. "My God, Arthur! What the hell happened?"

"Fernandez's man? Myers?" He gestured at the man. "Spy in the Navy," the captain continued, still panting. "Working with the frog."

"Fucking hell," Jock swore.

"I'm going to need someone to get to London. I'll stay here and deal with the aftermath of this. Can you leave now, Jock? Take two men with you and spare no expense. Colhurst needs to know about this."

"Are we sure Colhurst wasn't in on it?" Lovino put in weakly, feeling this needed to be said.

"Doubtful, don't know what his motivation would be, but I guess we'll find out. Travel armed, please, and stay safe."

Jock nodded and pointed to two of the bloodied crew members. "Don't change your clothes. Come as you are," he ordered. The three of them left the ship immediately.

"Let's get these bodies stacked up on the side of the deck. Damn, this ship is going to need a serious cleaning."

This struck the overwrought Lovino as a very funny non sequitur, and he began laughing with the release of tension. Several other crew members chuckled a bit, too. Arthur merely scowled at them, but understandingly, and then the men all bent to work.

…

Only eleven of the Resolute's crew remained alive and on the ship. Three more were still in town; Fanshaw had returned unable to locate them. The remaining crewmen, by mutual unspoken agreement, decided to stay on watch for the remainder of the night. They split into a few small groups to keep watch at both ends of the ship. Somehow everyone had already learned that Lovino had been the one to deal Bonnefoy's death blow. They respectfully left him and Arthur alone in the middle of the deck to discuss this.

Arthur sat with his arms around his knees, hands and clothes smeared with blood. He bent his head to rest for a moment before speaking hoarsely to the equally gory Lovino. "I – I can't thank you enough," he finally managed. "Not nearly enough. You did a brave night's work, tonight, my friend." He looked up earnestly.

Lovino was cross-legged facing him. "I'm just glad I got there in time," he murmured. "That bastard—"

The captain reached out and clasped his hand for a moment. When he let go, he asked, "You were already blooded when you came to the cabin. What – who - ?"

"I don't know his name. Not one of Fernandez's men. He told me they had orders to take me alive. So I killed him."

Arthur looked at him with admiration. "You have really gotten strong," he smiled, although it was a weak one. "In mind as well as body. I'm - glad you were watching my back. Very glad you wanted to stay with us on the Resolute."

"So am I, Arthur. So am I."

…

_My apologies…I told some of you the Francis fight scene would be "epic," and this really isn't. _

_Unfortunately after a few weeks of trying, I have found myself _quite_ unable to write a believable pirate battle scene between ships and full crews, on the open sea, type of thing. So I bottled out, and wrote this instead._


	7. Dispossessed

**Dispossessed.**

Two carriages stopped at the end of the docks. The two exhausted crewmen tumbled out of one; Jock, Colhurst (impeccably dressed as always in his Court finery), and another, plainer man from the Navy offices from the second. Jock turned to the crewmen.

"You've done well." He handed them a purse of money. "Go find a place to clean up and rest. You've been awake far too long. I'll notify the captain; take two days." One of them took the pouch and they stumbled, grinning, towards the town.

"Come along, Mr. MacDonald; let's wrap this up." Jock nodded and joined the Navy men as they walked to the ship.

…

It was late evening of the day after Bonnefoy's attack. As Colhurst and the others approached the Resolute, someone called down the length of the ship to Captain Kirkland. As a result, he was waiting at the head of the gangplank for the group of men from London.

"Gentlemen. Welcome to the Resolute."

Colhurst and his assistant shook Kirkland's hand. The rest of the crew was busy with its regular chores; some had gone on shore leave.

"Captain, we need to talk privately."

"Of course. Please step this way." He called to Lovino, who was nearest. "We'll be in my cabin. Please make sure no one disturbs us." Lovino nodded in acknowledgement.

Once seated, Kirkland on his bunk, the others at the small table, Colhurst drew out a small notebook from his pocket and asked to borrow a pen and ink. After he was prepared, he asked questions which the captain answered to the best of his knowledge, including the fruitless search for Le Furtif, the letter that the governor of the Bahamas had given him (this he handed to Colhurst), and the short conversation he'd had with Bonnefoy during their fight. Arthur concluded by pointing out that Myers, the instigator, the spy, was still on deck, still bound and guarded by two of his men.

The assistant silently made notes of all this while Colhurst occasionally asked a question to clarify things. After about an hour, he felt he had all the information that would be required for his superiors in London.

"We'll take Myers back with us. Is there anyone else who heard your conversation with Bonnefoy?"

"Yes, Mr. Vargas did, or at least most of it. Would you like to speak with him?"

"We can do that on deck; it shouldn't take long. What we'd like you to do now is to stay in port until you hear from us again. It sounds like your men can use an extended shore leave. Feel free to give them two weeks. We'll be in touch."

Arthur was only a little nervous about this sudden time off. It was true that the men needed the time, though, so he simply nodded and led the city men back to the deck, calling Lovino over to them as he did so.

"These gentlemen would like you to recap the conversation that Bonnefoy and I had in the cabin. In your own time."

"Of course." He took a moment to collect his thoughts. Arthur stepped away, so that he would not influence Lovino's narrative in any way.

…

"Thank you, captain. You may call someone to dispose of the bodies at Crown expense. We have cross-checked and verified your story and it all checks out."

Arthur nodded. "And we are to wait here for further orders, at least two weeks. Correct?"

"Correct. Please give the Resolute a thorough cleaning and re-outfitting."

"Understood." Kirkland walked the men to the gangplank again and they departed the ship.

"Now what?" Jock asked.

"Do we have anyone who's well-rested and can go into town to arrange for these bodies to be removed?"

Jock immediately sent someone to take care of this task; although it was fall, the bodies were beginning to smell. The sooner they were off the ship, the better.

"And get some rest, Jock. You're exhausted."

"Aye, Arthur, I will. You as well."

…

The Resolute was clean and ready to go again, which gave Arthur no small measure of relief. The crew had all taken their two weeks' leave with alacrity and would be returning tomorrow from various parts of the country. Even Lovino had gone off alone for a week; to where, he wouldn't say. Arthur had spent several days in London, but had returned to spend the bulk of his time in Southampton, sleeping on the ship and relaxing in the city and environs during the days.

That afternoon a messenger came from the Navy offices in London, bearing a sealed letter addressed to Arthur. He opened it lazily, relaxing on the deck, assuming it was the ship's new orders.

"Now what?" he barked, sitting up straighter. The messenger backed away. Captain Kirkland did indeed have a bloodthirsty reputation.

"What's the problem, Captain?" Fanshaw asked.

"I've got to go to London? Bloody hell, I just got back from there!" He scowled at the messenger. "What's this all about?"

"Dunno, sir, I was just told to deliver it to you."

"All the way to London just to get our new orders. Well, _bugger_. Thank you," he said absently to the messenger, who immediately turned and left the ship with a visible look of relief. Kirkland continued, "Fanshaw, why don't you come with me this time? We can talk to Colhurst about that promotion you deserve."

"Sure thing, Captain," the man grinned. "Always happy to talk about promotion."

…

"So, I'm sorry, Kirkland, but your tenure as a Crown employee is terminated effective tomorrow."

Arthur was so stunned at this that he couldn't even respond, other than to push his hand through his messy blond hair. "Look, sir, deaths are simply going to happen! There's no way to stop something like that."

"Nonetheless, we are tired of cleaning up the bloody repercussions of your fights. None of our other ships has anywhere near the number of kills that the Resolute has managed to tot up! Your men will all be given severance pay with bonuses, and you will all be free to pursue whatever alternate careers you wish. Men who wish to continue in the Navy will be welcome, but it is not required. I don't ask anyone to make this decision hastily, but we would like your crew's responses by the end of the following week. I'll be coming to the Resolute myself, with you, to handle the discharges, tomorrow. Please meet me here at eight to depart."

Arthur sighed. What else could he say? "Very well, sir."

"Kirkland – this is not just affecting you. We are also eliminating two other ships from the flotilla. I do hope you understand."

"I don't like it, but I understand."

Fanshaw and the captain were shown silently out of the offices. Neither spoke until they were quite a distance from the building. "Blast."

"You said it," Fanshaw laughed. "So much for my promotion!" He considered this a moment longer as they continued walking towards their hotel. "You know the crew would remain loyal to you, if you wanted them to. If you had any desire to outfit another ship, privately."

"What would be the point of that? We'd have to turn pirate again – something I do not intend to do. I don't want to run a merchant ship, either." He sighed. "It's going to be hard to say goodbye to the old girl. Been together so long…"

"It'll be hard for all of us," his companion replied.

…

All the way back to Southampton in the carriage, Fanshaw and Colhurst tried to make small talk with Arthur. The former was surprisingly eager to chat, but Arthur was so distracted about his future that he couldn't attend.

"Please –" he finally said. "I need to think, not chat. I need to figure out how to break this to the crew." The others nodded in understanding and talked to each other, instead.

The captain considered each man of his crew individually; wondered what they would do once they were free. Several of them he knew would reenlist in the Navy, since they had no family, no lives elsewhere. "What about you?" he finally asked Fanshaw idly. "Planning to reenlist?"

"Nah, though it really depends on this severance pay." He grinned at Colhurst, who looked away with a smile. "Might take the money and settle down somewhere. Don't know yet. You?"

"Ah, the problem is that I can't bear the thought of a life away from sea. I don't know yet either, my friend," he laughed shortly. A life in the Navy proper did not appeal to him at all, however.

Arthur finally allowed his thoughts to turn to Lovino. What would he choose to do with his life? There was a surprising weight on his heart, thinking of parting from his friend. A young man like Lovino, with his entire life ahead of him, a purse full of money, and the skills he'd learned on the Resolute, would have no problems finding employment on another ship. He was not officially part of the Navy, and while they might be happy to accept his enlistment, it wouldn't automatically be an option for him. He could go anywhere. Arthur sighed again and frowned out the window.

…

Colhurst stayed in town that evening, allowing the captain to explain the situation to his remaining crew alone. Several of them looked a bit distressed – though none seemed as distressed as he did – but most of the others seemed to take it well, breaking into small groups to discuss possible futures. For the rest of the evening, he made it a point to talk to as many of them as possible, reassuring them, offering assistance where needed.

Lovino stayed apart from the group, seated on the pile of surplus sails, Lucrezia on his lap. He seemed pensive enough that Arthur did not like to disturb him – and the captain was also surprised to find that he was a little nervous to discuss this with his friend. He avoided Lovino for the rest of the evening and finally went to his cabin to begin packing his things, to clear his head, and to rest.


	8. Breathless

**Breathless.**

Arthur was vacillating between pacing and packing when a knock came at the door. He felt his heart physically leap at the sound, thinking (hoping? fearing?) it might be his young friend, but then he forced himself to calm down and breathe deeply. It was probably only Fanshaw or Jock with a question about tomorrow. "Come in."

But it _was _Lovino, and he came striding into the cabin, oblivious to the blood draining from Arthur's face. The captain turned back to his packing without a word.

"I noticed you spoke to every man on board about his options," Lovino said simply, closing the door. "Except me."

There was silence in the cabin for a moment. "You – I didn't know what to say to you," the captain finally offered weakly, still throwing his belongings into his bag. "You – have so many options, so many choices ahead of you now…I didn't want to influence your decision in any way."

Lovino let out a curt laugh. "It's a bit late for that." He came further into the cabin and sat on the cabin boy's bunk, facing the captain.

Arthur misunderstood. He looked briefly at his friend, but then had to look away; for some reason he felt extremely nervous. "You mean, you've made a decision already?"

"I have." Lovino's gaze was steady.

"Wh-what will you do, then?" He wadded up the shirt he was holding, but didn't put it into his bag, simply paced intermittently while holding and twisting it. He didn't want to hear this, he really didn't. Things around here were bad enough already.

"Arthur." Lovino's voice was determined. "I'm going to go wherever you go."

"What!" He finally turned to face the younger man in astonishment. "You - that's just – just –" He took a deep breath, but Lovino interrupted.

"Listen to me," he replied. "I know what you're thinking, and you're wrong. This is not a decision I've made lightly, out of fear, or, or _neediness._ You're my best friend, Arthur…you're the only person I have in the world." He began to blush, but continued in a softer voice, arms crossed across his chest, "If this means I have to join the Royal Navy to stay with you, then so be it. If it means I go to Dartmoor and become a farmer – that's fine too. But I've made up my mind about this. I don't have anybody else, and I don't _want_ anybody else. I want to stay with you, want us to help each other. _You_ shouldn't – shouldn't have to be all alone in the world, either." He stopped abruptly and watched the flush mount on Arthur's cheeks.

Arthur had continued pacing during all this, twisting the shirt in his grip, and his steps had brought him closer to Lovino. He drew a ragged breath, not looking Lovino in the eye, and then to the surprise of both of them, bent down and gave the younger man a soft, hesitant kiss on the mouth.

When he drew back, he looked at Lovino's stunned expression. "Damn it!" Arthur barked, turning away so he wouldn't have to see that pain. "You see? This is exactly why I don't want you with me! How can I keep" – here he realized he was shouting, and lowered his voice – "how can I keep my hands to myself when you're always around, so trusting and – and _affectionate_? You need to be away from me, Lovino, you need to stay safe. I – I just can't – " Arthur couldn't think of what else to say to drive home his point, so he simply threw the shirt on the floor and stormed out of the cabin, slamming the door behind him.

…

Lovino sat on the bunk for another several minutes, heart pounding, his breathing labored, his face eventually cooling to normal. Arthur had – had just _kissed him._ Was that just a release of his tension? Or did he – did he perhaps (here Lovino covered his mouth with both hands, eyes wide) –

_If he…cares for…me…_He felt himself blushing again and twisted his fingers together nervously over his mouth, then forced his hands into fists at his sides. That would certainly be a reason for Arthur to fear his physical responses, but had Arthur even considered – that – that maybe Lovino – ?

Well, _did_ he…care for…the captain? Of course he did; Arthur had looked after him, had given him a job, a secure _home,_ aboard the Resolute, had befriended and supported him in countless ways. But that didn't mean Arthur loved him, no matter how much Lovino might love the captain in return.

_I guess that explains that_, he finally realized, sighing, now admitting to himself what had truly kept him on the ship all these years. He wondered how he could have deluded himself about that.

But…what if that kiss _had _been simply a release of tension? An instinctual reaction like – like – ah, but no. Arthur had shown himself over the years to be very strong in that regard; not once had he ever threatened Lovino with unwanted physical attentions. Lovino knew he would be safe. So did that kiss mean –? He twisted his fingers together again.

"Trusting and affectionate," Arthur had said. Well, Lovino _was _trusting and affectionate around the captain, of course…but it didn't mean he was _helpless!_ Dammit, he'd killed two men recently! Surely Arthur didn't think he'd calmly sit back and take abuse?

But then, coming from Arthur, would it actually _be_ abuse? Lovino was inclined to think not. Not if that sweet, loving kiss had been any indication. He dropped his face into his hands to cover his blush, to hide the subtle sting of rising tears.

Suddenly he realized he was still sitting in the captain's cabin. It was probably not a good idea to stay here any longer. He needed to be alone with no risk of interruption. He left the captain's cabin and returned to his own to pace and think, and pack.


	9. Desultory

**Desultory.**

Arthur and Jock sat quietly together on the deck, still discussing the abrupt turn in their fortunes. Jock had decided to reenlist in the Navy, since he had a family to provide for. This would also allow him routine visits to London at the end of each tour of duty. Both men – and many of the other crew members – had decided to sleep on deck tonight, for the companionship, and to pay a farewell to their beloved ship. Lucrezia sat with the captain, and he petted her absently while he and Jock talked. Lovino had not appeared on deck, for which Arthur was subtly grateful.

Arthur's mind had been turning over an idea for a little while, cautiously, when he was neither attending to Jock nor still panicking about the scene with Lovino. When Jock finally asked him what his plans were, he was able to answer with a measure of certainty. He sat with his knees bent, arms encircling them, staring out over the deck of the Resolute.

"I've been saving my money all these years, and I'd like to buy a little boat to sail around the world. See those places we all loved so much; see new places, be my own man, without worry for Naval orders or duty. I think this would be fun. And if it's not, well, I can change my mind later, sell it, and reenlist, I suppose."

Jock thought for a moment. "Lovino going with you?" he finally asked quietly.

Arthur blushed in the dark and rested his chin on his knees, not looking at Jock, not answering right away. "He – I haven't asked him. I think he can find - better options - for his future."

The two sat in silence for several minutes. "The future won't matter if you're miserable," Jock finally put forth in a low, understanding tone.

Arthur didn't answer at all, just kept staring out over the deck, blushing, trying to become calm.

…

In the morning the men awakened, stretched; the day promised to be bright and beautiful. Colhurst appeared with the locked bag containing the severance pay packets and began to distribute them with the help of an assistant from the docks. Arthur continued to dither; he wanted to be the last one off the ship, his home for so long. His belongings were on deck, in his bags, at his feet.

As the men took their pay packets, many of them gave Colhurst their immediate decision about reenlisting. He'd guessed right in almost every case. The only crewman whose plans he didn't know was Lovino. The two of them had not spoken since their disastrous encounter last night, and Lovino would not, in fact, meet Arthur's eye. He watched both Jock and Lovino speak to Colhurst and take their pay packets. Lucrezia was cradled in Lovino's arms, meowing loudly; the young man cheerfully shushed her from time to time. Then the two men departed the ship, conversing in low tones, without a backward glance. No, it did not pain him; Arthur would be just fine. He was also glad to see that Jock seemed to be taking care of Lovino now. Ah, it was better for his friend this way, safer. Arthur fondly watched him depart, and in his heart, wished him all the success in the world.

Finally everyone was off the ship except Colhurst and Arthur himself. Ah, it was breaking his heart to leave the Resolute. "Well, Kirkland? Planning to reenlist?" his employer asked.

"Not me," he replied easily. "I'm going to take some time for myself, for a little while. Perhaps next year, I don't know." He hoisted his two bags and shook Colhurst's hand, then took his packet.

"Best of luck to you, then, Arthur."

"And all the same to you," the ex-captain laughed in return, stepping down the gangplank without looking back.

…

The most convenient thing about Southampton, Arthur considered, was the large number of shipbuilders there. Arthur spent a pleasant morning (such as it was) going from shipyard to shipyard, looking to see whether any of them had available the kind of smallish boat he was looking for. He knew he was capable of crewing a two-man boat by himself, and in a pinch thought he could probably handle a three-man boat, so he concentrated on the available ones in those sizes. Of course space would be nice, and agility, as well. If he found nothing to suit himself, he'd commission a smaller one, but he really hoped to find something _just right_, ready and waiting, so he could leave sooner.

In the third shipyard he visited, he found just the thing. A sleek little two-masted schooner, the Shadow had been built for an English lord who'd died before her completion. The shipbuilders had finished outfitting her with less glamorous materials than the lord had originally wanted, in order to make her more salable in the end. Arthur discussed the construction and handling knowledgeably with the owners and they took her out for a trial run that afternoon. She was a fast, sweet boat, well worth the high price they were asking.

That afternoon he headed to his bankers' in London to get a draft for the purchase. Everything seemed to be falling into place – so why did he still feel depressed? Because of the abrupt change in his fortunes, the loss of the Resolute, of the life he'd been accustomed to, of course. Why was he even wondering about it? Well, his new life aboard his new boat would soon change that.

Once he returned to Southampton, after an overnight in London, he spent his time visiting merchants to outfit her with provisions and supplies. A brief encounter with the grain merchant's cat brought a wave of sadness through him. He might look into getting himself a ship's cat, for the companionship.

When his provisioning chores were complete, he headed back to his lodgings to check his records and make sure everything was settled for tomorrow.

Arthur tossed and turned all night. It was very exciting to be starting a new life adventure, he considered.

…

_My apologies if a schooner is the wrong kind of boat, here. I did some research but was unable to find out what type of a sailing boat would legitimately be the right size (and era) for what Arthur wants. But I found some pictures of schooners that looked like he could handle them, if he's really good (which we know he is), so that's what I used. If you know of a more realistic type of boat for this, please let me know and I'll be happy to change it._


	10. Voyage of Discovery

**Voyage of Discovery.**

Departure morning dawned clear and bright, and Arthur was very excited despite his poor night's sleep. When he reached the shipyard, the two owners were waiting for him, and presented him the paperwork he'd require to prove ownership, and the little things like keys that were needed aboard.

"We wish you all the best of luck in your travels, Mr. Kirkland."

"And we also hope that you find everything aboard to be to your complete satisfaction."

Both of the men shook his hand heartily, beaming with unconcealed delight. Arthur considered that he too would be quite happy, if he'd successfully unloaded an expensive boat that might otherwise have proven to be a white elephant. He thanked them graciously and boarded the Shadow, simply dropping his bags on the deck, and got under way immediately.

Arthur happily waved farewell to the shipyard owners as the boat left the dock. He had no real direction planned, and his intent was to put the Shadow through a few days' worth of maneuvers without going too far away, in case of any unforeseen difficulties with the boat itself.

He felt a deep measure of peace being out on the water again, a sense of newness as he plied the familiar waters without regard for orders, battles, crew. He threw his head back and let the wind play through his hair, let the sun warm his face; the sea really was Arthur's home, and he was reasonably happy to be here. For the rest of the day's sailing, he felt joyous and free, sometimes even laughing aloud, marred only by the occasional worry about how his dear friend might be faring back in England.

He did miss Lovino already, it was true. He felt a tiny bit of – sadness? loneliness? – at the idea of being all alone on the Shadow for the foreseeable future. Arthur had been thinking that the further he sailed from Southampton, the easier it would be to deal with the memory of their inconclusive farewell. And yet, every hour he spent sailing, he seemed to obsess more about it. It was difficult to concentrate while he was trying to sail the boat, however. Finally, he decided to drop anchor and sails for a while and meditate on this problem. Because it _was_ a problem, he knew that now.

Once he'd decided to face it, he instantly accepted how idiotic he'd been. Lovino had offered him his trust and friendship, and he, Arthur, had thrown it back at him, merely because he felt he could not control his physical urges! How base. Arthur felt himself quite humiliated by the remembrance of that whole scene, and scrubbed his hands through his hair in irritation. He paced on the deck. He cursed, under his breath. Kicked the mast, the railing, a few times in anger. He cursed, this time aloud…before deciding the only way to fix this was to return to Southampton and see if he could find his friend; to apologize, at the very least. To try to put it all right. It had been so inexpressibly stupid of him to have gone off without resolving that discussion. Childish. And it would take hours to sail back; possibly days to figure out where Lovino had gone and track him down. Assuming his friend would even want to speak to him again after that. Damn it all. Jock had been right. All the rosy future plans in the world didn't make up for being in misery. He took a deep breath and rested his forearms on the railing, staring irritably out over the Atlantic, not seeing.

Well, he'd need a good night's sleep before the return trip. Arthur sighed again and turned to take his bags to his cabin. To his surprise, a familiar cat ran out from below decks. "L-Lucrezia?" he stammered, staring down at her. "H-how on earth did you get onto the Shadow?"

"The same way I did," the cherished voice stated from the other side of the deck, and he looked up, stunned, to see Lovino standing there, smiling sweetly. Arthur dropped his bags, shocked and hopeful, as his friend walked across the deck to meet him. "You didn't think you'd get rid of me that easily, did you?" he asked his captain in a low tone.

And as Lovino moved to embrace him, Arthur finally understood, and smiled, tilting his face to receive his beloved's kiss.

…

_The end! Thanks for reading. Following are two little epilogues I wrote just for fun, but the story is officially complete._


	11. Naval Noodlemonger

**Naval Noodlemonger.**

Arthur and Lovino were lounging flat on the deck, lazily eating some pasta that Lovino had made, enjoying the vivid sunset. Once they'd reunited, the Italian had put his foot down about who would be doing the cooking on board. Arthur, never very interested in cookery, had agreed easily. He was getting a little tired of pasta by now. But he would never tell his friend that.

Instead, he asked a question that had been perplexing him for the few weeks they'd been on the Shadow. "When you went on your shore leave alone, where did you go?"

"Dartmoor. Wanted to see if I liked it enough to live there, if that's what you wanted to do." Lovino lay back on the deck and licked some pasta sauce off his fingers, then put his arms behind his head as a pillow.

"I guess you didn't object to it much."

"It's a nice place. But this is better," he grinned.

"I agree. Where should we sail to next?"

Lovino considered this. "Want to go to Rome? I'd like to see it again. Been a long time."

"Never been there. It would be fun to explore it with you."

"Maybe I can get some new pasta recipes."

Arthur tried not to groan as he finished his meal and set the plate aside. Lucrezia came over to inspect it, but apparently did not find tomatoes to her liking. The captain laughed at this. "Thanks for cooking. It was delicious." Well…yes, it was. Certainly better than anything Arthur could have made. Tea was about his limit.

"Mm, come over and lie down with me, _Captain_. It's cold."

"Want me to get us a blanket?"

"No," Lovino smiled. "I'll be perfectly comfortable with you by my side."

…

_"Naval Noodlemonger" is an anagram of 'Romano England Love.' I couldn't stand knowing that and not using it for a title, so here's a little bonus chapter. I hope you don't feel that it drags down the overall tone of the story._


	12. No Trouble at All

**No Trouble at All.**

Here in Rome, the crowds were plentiful. Arthur felt as though he were back in London, though without the advantage of understanding the language. "Can you understand it?" he'd asked Lovino, when they'd first arrived.

"Sort of. I – well, I sense the shape of the meaning, without really understanding the words."

Arthur had nodded in understanding. He spoke Spanish fluently, due to his upbringing in Madrid, but Italian was just different enough to cause him frustration.

But after three days Lovino had gotten back into the swing of it, and was speaking and understanding Italian with ease. Arthur, therefore, thankfully left all the communication to him. Of course they still spoke in English to each other, but the blond felt immeasurably more comfortable allowing Lovino to conduct transactions in Italian, rather than trying it himself.

They'd been here a week, sightseeing, shopping, and generally doing all the things sailors like to do when back on land. Each night they returned to the docked Shadow to sleep, rather than spending money on a hotel. Some mending and re-provisioning had been done, and would be done again in a week when they concluded the trip and sailed onward – to where, they had not yet decided.

Arthur smiled at his friend, who was peering into the window of a shop. Lovino had taken to the Italian fashions like a duck to water, and the elegant dark finery he now wore belied the supple, dangerous young man beneath. Not a day went by that Arthur failed to give thanks for Lovino's quick blade in Bonnefoy's back.

Nor did he fail to give thanks for the strength of conviction that had allowed Lovino to join him on the Shadow. Arthur now understood that he was hopelessly in love with the young man, had been for a long time, and his only real worry was that Lovino would someday tire of him and leave.

And so he always exerted himself to be the man Lovino needed him to be, wanted him to be. He was friend, protector, father, brother, lover, and sometimes even son – on those disturbing nights when the ghosts rose up from Arthur's past to confront him, and he mourned. Lovino cared for him tenderly on those nights, holding him, speaking calm words of cold reason, rather than emotional arguments that might deepen Arthur's conflict.

He had not yet said the word "love" to his younger friend. Had not yet heard it from the Italian, either. Sometimes, looking at him, Arthur wondered how a human heart could feel so strongly for another; he worried that he was too vulnerable, where Lovino was concerned. But he had not yet voiced these feelings.

Lovino turned from the shop window and beckoned to him, interrupting his musings. Arthur hurried across the street. "I want those boots," the brunet said with a laugh.

"Then you should get those boots!" Arthur held the shop door for him, and laughing, they passed inside together.

…

Walking back to the Shadow after a quiet dinner at a small restaurant, Lovino carrying the parcel with his new boots, they didn't speak much. It was late, and although neither had had anything to drink, both of them had confessed to a little tiredness.

As they walked, Arthur noticed Lovino shift into a more alert position, taking quieter steps. "Hm?" he asked, very quietly.

"Sh." They walked on, the blond attempting to quiet his footsteps on the cobblestones. "Bandits?" Lovino eventually wondered, shifting the parcel to his off hand.

Arthur put a little space between them, to allow Lovino to go for his sword, if necessary, and put his hand on the hilt of his own. He hoped there would be no trouble, but if trouble there was, he'd be ready for it.

Yes. He heard the footsteps now, almost silent, shuffling behind them. "Now!" Lovino yelled, spinning in place, hurling the parcel of boots at an attacker, and drawing his sword, all in one quick motion.

Arthur leapt into the fray as well. There were four men, all big, and quite dirty, as far as he could make out in the dim moonlight. "Don't kill them," he called to Lovino. "We don't want trouble."

"This isn't trouble?" Lovino laughed in response, cutting a long slash in a brigand's arm. The man cursed violently in Italian, swiping at the blood, which allowed Lovino to slice him behind the knees; he crumpled, continuing to curse.

Arthur's opponent had only one arm, but in that arm he held a fearsome club studded with nails. His sword had the longer reach, which was quite possibly the only thing saving him at this point. To the side he heard Lovino joking in Italian with another attacker, but he needed to focus.

A few direct thrusts and the one-armed man took a slash to the wrist, disabling him; the club fell to the cobblestones. A man behind Arthur hit him with a length of wood; he spun to face him. The hit had landed on the shoulder of his sword arm, but hadn't been crippling. He turned to defend; the man was using the wooden stake as a sword, parrying the Englishman's thrusts easily. Bollocks, all he needed was for his sword to get stuck in the bloody piece of wood! Enraged, Arthur lunged, and ran the man through the shoulder.

"_Figlio di puttana!"_ the man growled, the stake falling to the ground, the man soon after.

Arthur stood breathing heavily and scanned the area for Lovino. Three men down, and his friend was taunting the fourth man with his now-excellent sword skills. This man looked hassled and kept calling out to his friends, who lay groaning on the cobbles and ignoring him.

With one last thrust, Lovino bared his teeth in a parody of a grin, looking almost feral in the dim light, and the sole remaining attacker dropped his bent lead pipe and ran. "_Vaffanculo!"_

"You all right?" Arthur called out.

Laughing, Lovino tossed his sword into the air and caught it by the hilt as it fell. "Nothing like a little swordplay to wake a man up!" After sheathing it, he picked up the parcel containing his boots and crossed to Arthur, pausing to kick the nailed club into the darkness at the side of the road. "Are you?"

"Yes. My hat fell off somewhere," the blond laughed, "but I'll leave it for them to remember us by. Come on. Let's go."

At the end of the street the two friends turned to look back. "Worried about that last man?" Arthur asked.

"Not really. I think he was the weakest of the four, but by dumb luck the last to fall. I should have known you'd be able to dispatch your opponents easily."

"Brigands are nothing to worry me, much," Arthur admitted. "I learned to fight dirty when I was young; if I have to use those skills, I will. Let's go back."

"Yes. But circuitously; if that fourth man is tailing us, we shouldn't lead him back to the Shadow."

"Agreed."

They reached a larger thoroughfare, where horse-drawn carriages queued for hire. Arthur flagged one down and Lovino requested him to drive to Castel Sant'Angelo. The friends settled in, Arthur shaking out his shaggy locks, on this drive that would hopefully allow them to evade their attackers.

"Glad you didn't lose your new boots."

"These boots are _perfection_, Arthur. I still don't see how you can wear those clumpy old English ones all the time."

"They're sturdy. They'll see me through. And if I need to kick an attacker, these boots will do far more good than your Italian – er – _foot-gloves_." He took a deep breath. "I'm glad you were alert tonight. Thank you."

"Did you get hurt?"

"Eh, just hit in the shoulder with one of those stakes. Nothing that won't heal."

"Why didn't you say? Well, I'll take a look at it when we get back home," Lovino promised.

Home, to the Shadow. Arthur was happy that his friend felt that way about their tiny boat.

…

They made it back without anyone following them. In the cabin they shared, Lucrezia sat washing her paws and eying them warily, as though she knew something dangerous had happened.

"Take the shirt off." Lovino placed his parcel in the corner, his sword and coat on the cabin's small table, before removing his old boots.

Arthur took off his jacket and shirt and lay face-down on the bed. "It's not a problem. Probably just a bruise."

Lovino surprised him by climbing up on the bunk and straddling him. He could feel the lace trim on the younger man's elaborate cuffs as the brunet trailed his fingers over the injury. Arthur closed his eyes and savored the gentle questing touch of his lover's fingers.

"You'll be fine," Lovino told him, but instead of climbing off the bed, he bent forward and kissed the bruise tenderly.

Arthur's body went from weary pain to intense desire in a matter of seconds. "Lovino –"

"Relax. Just relax, Captain, and let me tend to your needs."

He understood the promise in those words and relaxed, allowing his lover to control the scene. The weight of the warm body above his back, the sound of the little murmurs Lovino always made when aroused, the scent of him – Arthur could drown in these sensations, they pleased him so.

He felt Lovino's warm tongue begin to lave his hurt shoulder, and for a while, he ceased to think, and simply responded.

…

Drowsy, sated, the brunet wrapped an arm around Arthur's broad, muscular chest. "I love you," he murmured.

Arthur stilled, not certain he'd heard right, and then smiled in the dark. Lovino was so brave in so many ways. "I love you, too."


End file.
